


Children of War

by charmedward



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Rogers, Deaf Clint Barton, Families of Choice, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmedward/pseuds/charmedward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How in the years that followed the fall out of S.H.E.I.L.D., Steve came to receive 14 significant surprises and one large family.</p><p>-<br/>I swear it wasn't meant to be this long, it was just meant to be a story about Bucky's siblings and the children of the Howling Commandos!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children of War

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Steve Rogers, our favourite and oldest bisexual. I hope he can forgive me for leaving it right until the night before to write the last 6000 words of this.
> 
> Shout out to Tallie (loveheartlover) for proof reading for me! I don't know what I did to deserve her

**Surprise #1: Coulson is alive**

Well, Thor will be delighted.

It’s Natasha who tells him. The trio are in Amsterdam, hot on the trail of the Winter Soldier as he blazes across Europe following some unknown trail of bread crumbs. They’re only a few weeks into their manhunt and Steve thinks they might be getting close already. It’s that thought that stops him sleeping.

It’s not quite dawn but already he, Natasha and Sam are awake in the semi-darkness of the hostel’s communal sleeping room. To call it a bedroom would be too kind. The room is big, though crammed with dozens of bunk beds and mismatched tables that don’t lock. More beds are occupied than not, but the small party of friends don’t feel threatened by anyone here. The most dangerous roommate is a stoner with a couple hypodermic needles shoved under her pillow. A heavy thickness fills the air, not quite a smell but more like treacle in the atmosphere, invisible as it tries to slip down his throat and choke him. Steve is also pretty sure he saw mould in the showers earlier.

Sam is lacing his boots on the bunk bed, eyes glazed over with the hypnotic rhythm he’s setting. Despite the unsavoury living situation, Sam hasn’t complained once. Steve might have been unsettled if he didn’t know Sam was a vet and therefore accustom to much worse conditions. Natasha hadn’t complained either, but that was no surprise.

“Steve?”

Natasha’s voice makes him jump violently despite the gentleness of it. She’s looking at him from her perch on their rented nightstand, eyes assessing in a way he’s come to hate. Thanks to the lack of hair care equipment, her hair has dried into imperfect ringlets. She’s teasing out a few knots with a comb even as she watches Steve.

He realises he’s been quiet for nearly a full minute.

“Who else knows?” he asks, hushed as though it’s still a secret.

With a shrug of the shoulders, Natasha glances down at the phone balancing on her thigh. It glows dimly, smug with the secrets of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s innermost workings.

“It’s been on the internet for weeks, Steve. We’re probably the last to know.”

She says we, but Steve can’t help wondering how Natasha hasn’t been through the S.H.I.E.L.D. leak sooner and discovered this almighty oversight earlier. If he wasn’t looking for Bucky, he probably wouldn’t have slept until he’d read everything. Something at the back of his mind tells him the entire workings of a spy organisation isn’t exactly bed time reading, however. Maybe it really had taken Natasha all this time.

Steve doesn’t ask how. There would be a time and place for questioning his perception of morality but it isn’t now. Instead, he straightens his back and glances over at Sam. Sam, who hasn’t even met Coulson and just assumes he’s another superhuman until proven otherwise. Steve gets a small, reassuring smile in response.

“Are you leaving us?” he hates how barbed his tone is.

Natasha seems to weight that up. “I’ll contact him tonight.” she says, as though it’s an answer.

Doubt tugs at Steve’s consciousness even as he nods. Natasha isn’t meant to be with them right now anyway, he knows that. She’s meant to be far away establishing a cover and working on getting her own life together. She had said as much at Fury’s grave. That the three of them had run into each other had been a complete coincidence. After two cups of coffee at a local café and a recap of how far their mission had gotten without her, Natasha had quickly recruited herself for the journey. Sam had joked that it was his handsome good looks that had won her over. “Stranger things have happened.” Steve had replied, earning himself a swift kick.

Now they were faced with the possibility of Natasha leaving to track down Coulson and Steve didn’t like it. He wasn’t going to say “Please stay, we need you on this.” but he was thinking it pretty damn loudly. Natasha – immune to Steve’s attempted telepathic guilt trip – carries on combing out her hair.

He knows she doubts him. Doubts that his memories of the Soldier dragging him out of the Potomac are real. He doubts them too sometimes. But then he’ll fall asleep and his usual nightmare of crashing into the arctic is altered and there’s a flash of metal as a hand pulls him out of the freezing water. If the Soldier – if Bucky – could break through his programming like that and save Steve then there’s a chance Steve could return the favour. He at least owed it to Bucky to try.

“Am I really the only one who wants to know how this Coulson friend of yours came back to life?” Sam finally asks.

 

**Surprise #2: S.H.I.E.L.D. has been reborn**

Finding Bucky was the single most important thing in Steve’s life right now. He could attest to this with his unshaven, mountain man look gained from frequenting utter dives of youth hostels; he could attest to this with his weeks of incessant searching; or his ability to drop anything that didn’t lead him to the next breadcrumb on his journey. He could attest to this with the numerous arguments and fallings out he’s had with Sam over effective methods of containment and what exactly they plan to do when they find him.

So the fact that Steve has abandoned his search for the Winter Soldier (if only temporarily) is no small feat.

He paces, agitated, on the linoleum flooring. The drone of his footfalls thuds in his mind even as he twists and turns back the way he came. An acid taste (chlorine?) bites at his hypersensitive nasal passage. There are no windows. No fresh air. Nothing to take the smell of sickness and carry it off down the corridor. A fire alarm blinks reliably above the shadow of Steve Rogers as he thinks, thinks and overthinks.

Sam is nowhere to be seen, probably off getting some shut eye for once. Steve can’t remember the last time either of them slept. Did they sleep on the plane to Australia? He isn’t sure. Can’t even remember what Sam had said when Steve had demanded to know why Coulson was in Australia in the first place. Was it something to do with a S.H.I.E.L.D. base? Everything is so jumbled, a caffeinated blur of information not yet processed.

Natasha had left not long after they learnt of Coulson’s survival. At the time Steve couldn’t fathom how chatting to Coulson ranked higher than saving Bucky, but he thinks he understands now. S.H.I.E.L.D. was infiltrated by sleeper cell agents, double agents who had built up years of credibility before turning out to be wolves. Natasha had been a threat to S.H.I.E.L.D. once, before all this. It was only a matter of time before someone suspected her too. Of course, this was ridiculous and Sam had said as much when Steve ran the theory by him. No one would doubt Natasha’s loyalty after she helped take down the helicarriers, but Steve was sure of it. Natasha had gone to Coulson to reaffirm her loyalty to him and to whatever remained.

Whatever remained…

Steve clenches his fists. Forces himself to bite down any curse that might have otherwise found its way out of his raw lips. He can do this; he can keep his anger in check. A vein ticks in his forehead, his body’s rebellion to stifling the outrage within.

He doesn’t know exactly how much time passes before Coulson rounds the corner at the end of the corridor and approaches. His appearance gives Steve pause. Director Phil Coulson is a mess of cuts, bruises and torn clothing. His familiar black suit jacket is gone, replaced by a bulletproof vest. Stained sleeves are pushed up to his elbow and his gun is still holstered on his hip, unusual considering they were in a hospital of a friendly country.

The chlorine smell in Steve’s nostrils gives way to the unmistakable smell of something this is or has just been burning. It’s not quite the smell that lingers after gunshots, though that is there too. Coulson smells like he’s actually been set on fire. Steve decides not to ask.

“Captain Rogers.”

“Director Coulson.”

Coulson comes to a standstill outside the only occupied room in this wing. His fingers brush the handle and he looks like he wants to go in. Seemingly thinking better of it, he turns back to face Steve.

“My apologies for dragging you away from your search, Captain. As you can see, we have a situation on our hands.” He tries to smile but there’s nothing to laugh at.

“Your hands? You mean S.H.I.E.L.D.’s?” Steve can’t keep the displeasure out of his voice.

A vexed expression finds its way to his face when Coulson doesn’t look repentant. Blinking up at the cream panels of the ceiling, Steve sets his jaw.

“You’re unhappy that I rebuilt S.H.I.E.L.D.” It’s not a question.

Silence falls between them, quiet enough to hear the heart rate monitor in the other room. It reminds Steve of why he’s here, but he’s not done yet. He continues to glare at the ceiling as he replies,

“I nearly died to take down S.H.I.E.L.D. two months ago. I tore it all down, Sir! Said that we couldn’t take the risk of trusting anyone on the inside after this. We had to start from scratch.” Steve sucks in a breath, “A month ago I thought you were dead. Forgive me for saying, but that doesn’t exactly foster trust in most people. S.H.I.E.L.D. can’t protect the world if it’s too busy convincing everyone it’s not still corrupt.”

The words aren’t what Steve wants to say, not quite. No matter how much he thinks, he can’t articulate what he’s been feeling ever since hearing that S.H.I.E.L.D. is back. Betrayal comes close, but that’s not right either. This goes beyond what he fought and nearly died for. Logically, he knows the world needs S.H.I.E.L.D. – needs something to protect it from the new threats that even NASA would balk at. But right now S.H.I.E.L.D. in synonymous with HYDRA and Steve can’t bear to think about it. He meets Coulson’s challenging expression.

“I have to say I’m disappointed, Captain. After Agent Carter helped find-”

Steve cuts him off, “It was Agent Carter that said sometimes the best we can do is start over. Don’t play Peggy against me, Phil.”

Saying her name makes his breath hitch in a way he can’t cover. He thinks of her as he saw her last, pale and frail as she reassured him that leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. was okay if he thought it best. He thinks of how only he will remember that conversation.

Coulson must see some of this internalized grief for he slumps against the wall and shuts his eyes. He knows as Steve does that fighting over S.H.I.E.L.D. now is pointless. It’s back and that’s that. What Steve does next is up to him.

“You didn’t hear the speech.” Steve says weakly, thinking back to the day he fell.

“There was a speech?” Coulson’s eyes flicker open.

“Yeah, it- Sam thought I must have prepared it.” Damn it all to hell, what would Sam say if he could see Steve arguing with the Director outside a sick woman’s room? “I couldn’t take any chances, it all had to go.”

He hates how he sounds in this moment, like a child trying to explain something to an adult. The logic was there but now it’s fuzzy. He’s so tired. Right on cue, he yawns wide, belatedly covering his mouth.

“Fury gave me this gig, Steve. He trusts me to rebuild and that’s what I’m going to do. I’d like to know I have your support.”

The burning smell has faded now. Coulson still looks like he was caught up in a turbine but somehow there’s an air of strength about him. His voice never wavers as he speaks. It’s admirable in a way Steve can identify with. He knows a thing or two about strength beyond that of the body.

In the end he doesn’t know what convinces him. Is it Coulson’s moral fibre, or did it have something to do with the person in the sick bed? Perhaps both.

A nurse enters the corridor and ignores the other men as he slips into the patient’s room. Steve’s reply dies on his tongue as he sees Coulson is no longer interested in him, focusing now on trying to peer through the little window in the door. He’s whispering something, encouragement maybe? Steve has never seen him look so paternal.

After a few minutes the nurse exits the room and smiles softly at Coulson’s hurry to hide his prying.

“She’s still stable and the meds seem to have kicked in just fine. She’s not conscious but if you want you can go in now.”

He’s halfway down the corridor before Coulson gets his wits back and yells for the nurse to send up the rest of his team. Nodding, the nurse disappears.

“Do you want me to…?” Steve trails off.

He’s suddenly very aware that he’s imposing. Coulson may have ordered Sam and him onto the plane but no one had told Steve to meet the director here. Being impatient and eager to leave, Steve had gone straight to where he was told Coulson would be.

Coulson rubs a hand down his face, “I’ll wait for my team. You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“I’m not going to post your new secrets all over the internet, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I can’t join you either, not yet. I have to bring him home, Sir. I have to find him before what's left of HYDRA does.”

Seeming to accept this, Coulson sighs. Leaning forward he shakes Steve’s hand and flashes a business smile. Steve feels like he just agreed to something he hasn’t properly thought out. It could wait, however. Everything could wait.

“Coulson!” A young brunette girl with red rimmed eyes and tear tracks on her cheeks rushes at them.

She skids to a halt in front of her boss, chest heaving in a way that Steve knows isn’t from her dash. For once, he is ignored by the pretty girl. He watches Coulson reach out and place his hands on her shoulders. In the past Steve had always disliked this action, thinking of it like pushing down on the person in an unfriendly way. Now though, the girl leans into the touch as sobs rack her frame. She looks supported, both physically and not.

“She’s okay, Skye. She’ll be fine.”

Steve has the decency to look away when Coulson starts to tear up.

“I want to see her.” Skye demands, eyes ablaze as if Coulson would dream of turning her down.

Someone should send her away. There’s a clot of blood matted in her long hair and multiple grazes running along her bare arms. She looks as though she missed most of the action though, if Coulson is anything to go by. What had Sam said they’d been doing? Clearing a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house and discovered a nest of double agents? Nasty business.

“Of course,” Coulson says, sounding like a father soothing his child, “I’ll be in in a minute.”

He gestures at Steve and Skye hesitates for a moment as she recognises him. Opening her mouth, she makes to say something, a greeting perhaps, but then a weak voice calls out from the other room and the greeting turns into a breathy, “ _Simmons!_ ” and Skye is gone.

Steve understands.

“She’s had worse. Nearly drowned a month or two back. Managed to save herself and a teammate.” Coulson’s words are clipped, his sentences tight.

There’s nothing to be said to that except a few words of comfort and a meaningless assurance of Steve’s faith in her recovery. They don’t say anything else until the rest of Coulson’s team arrives.

“Captain Rogers,” Agent May inclines her head at him.

“Yes yes yes we can all marvel at boy wonder later.” a small, fretting man says as he pushes past everyone and dives into the other room.

“I’d rather do that now.” a second man says.

It’s on him that Steve’s eyes linger, unsure. He’d heard of Agent May of course but the rest of Coulson’s team was meant to be virtually unknown names. So why did he look familiar? The man shifts his weight to another foot.

“Kinda figured you’d have the shield with you, but that seems silly now. Though I think S.H.I.E.L.D.’s new insurance company wouldn’t want Captain American running after brainwashed assassins without his shield.”

Steve says nothing.

“A joke,” the man grimaces.

It’s too late to laugh so Steve says something about leaving it in his hotel room.

He hadn’t wanted to look at it after the events of the Triskelion. When he had woken up in hospital he had found it propped against his bed and Sam had admitted to fishing it out once Steve had been taken to ER and stabilised. Steve hadn’t told him that he’d willingly lost the shield. Hadn’t said he’d all but surrendered to an assassin wearing his dead friend’s face. Looking at the shield now filled him with shame. No longer a symbol of his homeland, it represented Steve’s weakness. Every time he picked it up he felt unworthy, as though it knew he abandoned it to the cold waters of the Potomac.

Sam had yelled at him for his newfound reluctance to use his shield, saying to go after the Winter Solider less than fully prepared was suicide. Steve hadn’t thought of it like that. Anyway, Sam had a new pair of wings from his friend in the air force. They weren’t exactly defenceless.

“If we’re done here, Captain...” Coulson hedges, reluctant to kick out America’s golden boy.

Nodding, Steve gives a half-hearted wave and mutters something about hoping Simmons recovers swiftly. He thinks Agent May actually smiles at that, but then she too steps into the room and is gone.

Turning on his heels, Steve starts to head back to the stairwell. He slows when he hears footsteps hurrying after him.

 

**Surprise #3: One of the agents of this new S.H.I.E.L.D. is Howling Commando Gabe Jones’ grandson; Antoine Triplett**

Minutes later finds Steve having breakfast (as it is only 8:47AM local time) with Antoine Triplett.

They’re the sole customers of the hospital café, surprisingly. A rather sleepy looking teen sits behind the cash register but otherwise it’s just them and the condiments. Besides the metallic sound of cutlery scraping plates it’s a quiet place to be. Usually hospital cafes are the waiting rooms for friends and family who can’t stand the dread of the actual waiting room any longer, convinced that somehow no one can bring them bad news if they’re surrounded by strangers eating bland pancakes and overdone toast. Steve wonders if Antoine has any bad news for him.

“So your grandfather, is he-?” he can’t finish the sentence.

Antoine swallows a mouthful of scrambled eggs and his brow knits together even as he smiles faintly.

“Yeah, he’s moved on. Peggy and you are the last ones left from the old days, Cap. I’m sorry about that.” There’s no questioning the sincerity of his condolences.

Gulping past his tight throat, Steve nods. He knew it was too much to hope for. When he had awoken in New York there had been a resounding temptation to seek out the Commandos but he knew he was kidding himself. Fury had pointed him in Peggy’s direction but he’d never mentioned the rest of Steve’s old team and that had been enough to tell him he was too late.

Steve mixes honey into his bowl of lukewarm porridge without really noticing.

“I’m sorry too, Antonie. He was a great man; saved my life more times than I can count.” Steve says.

“Call me Trip.” is the only reply he gets.

Steve nods at his plate of food. He wants to tell Trip that it’s not just him and Peggy that are leftover from the war. Bucky’s out there somewhere, almost certainly on another continent and most likely on the warpath after what remains of his old handlers. But for all that has been leaked over the last few months, all the secrets that have been spilled, Steve needs to keep this one. Only a handful of people know the true identity of the Winter Solider. Steve intends to keep it that way until Bucky can be brought in. He wants to trust Trip, but Bucky’s safety is something he can’t compromise. All the world needs to know is that Captain America and the Falcon are hunting down the assassin that killed Nick Fury.

“If you don’t mind, Trip,” Steve begins, playing with his food, “I’d like to know where they’re buried. When this is all over I’d like to- to pay a visit.”

Tears form in the corner of his eyes but he refuses to let them fall. Not yet. He had waited this long to grieve, he could wait a little longer. And maybe when this was all over he wouldn’t have to grieve alone.

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you want, Cap.”

Thanking him, Steve gets to his feet and promises to be right back. In as orderly a fashion as he can manage, he makes his way to the men’s room and finds it blessedly empty. It’s small and a bit dirty, but Steve doesn’t notice. He sags. With an unsteady intake of breath he makes his way to the sink and hits the button on the only tap for water.

The sound of highly pressurized water hitting the porcelain bowl is oddly soothing, like the hammering of rain on a hard surface. Steve lets his eyes drift shut and thinks about all the times he fell asleep to the sound of rain in the army. He thinks of making up tents in the drizzle, of marching in downpours and one on memorable occasion climbing into trees to avoid the still somewhat flooded earth from a particularly bad day. The smallest thing reminds him of his Commandos these days. The bigger things – like a fully grown grandson of one such Commando – well those things were harder to deal with.

Steve washes his face and scrubs it with a paper towel, grimacing when it drags over his skin and makes it red. By way of the large mirror Steve notices he’s sporting a rather unusual amount of stubble for him. He wouldn’t have been paying attention to the length between shaves but Sam would have seen it every day. The fact that Sam isn’t nagging him about the small things reveals a new depth of worry in the wingman. Steve wishes he could feel like he isn’t doing everything wrong.

He goes back out to the café half expecting to see Trip gone, after all he had a teammate in intensive care upstairs. Instead he sees the man fiddling with a small piece of paper in his long, dark fingers. It’s no bigger than a business card, though Steve can’t imagine why a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent would need something like that. He hopes he’s not about to be asked for an autograph. The idea of Gabriel Jones’ grandson treating him like a celebrity is supremely unsettling and maybe a little upsetting.

Steve has nothing to fear though. As he slots himself back down into his seat Trip looks up and grins lazily. It’s not the barely-suppressed-excitement grin he was preparing for, so Steve relaxes.

“Are you on Facebook, Steve?”

Trip laughs at Steve’s bemused expression and shakes his head slightly.

“There’s a private group on there I think you’d like to check out.” he explains, fingers still making the paper dance.

While not officially, Steve did have an account. Natasha had set it up for him about a year ago and though it was under a pseudonym and he’d never posted, Steve still felt like the media was a second away from finding it. So yes, he tells Trip, he does have an account.

Trip’s face lights up, “Great! Here’s the name, you’ll have to request to join it but then you’re in.”

He hands over the paper, politely ignoring the few seconds it takes for Steve to jump slightly and reach for it. It turns out to indeed be a business card, one Steve recognises from the stack of them over by the cutlery station in the café. Steve is pretty sure the group has nothing to do with pet insurance so he flips it over and finds neat, cramped handwriting that reads, “Howling Commando Families”.

“Trip,” Steve asks curiously, “What is this?”

Finishing the last of his bacon, Trip gives a wide smile and kicks back in the padded seat. “That, oh Captain my Captain, is what the families of the Howling Commandos use to communicate these days.”

Steve is dimly aware that his mouth has dropped open a little. His porridge has gone from lukewarm to a cold clump of oats but he doesn’t notice. He looks at the little card in his hand and wonders why he never thought of the families.

“See, after the war ended everyone went home, like you do, but they just couldn’t call it quits. Mostly it was just letters at the start, the occasional visit when they could afford it. Eventually it became viral and we ended up with a group of our own. Just us, no outsiders.” Trip elaborates.

“They kept in touch all those years?”

He knew he had picked a good team but he hadn’t thought about what would happen after the war. They didn’t even all come from the same country, it would have been perfectly normal for them to lose contact after a few years. But this was more than a team, this was stronger.

“Well like I said, you and Peggy are the only serving members left and she wasn’t even a Commando. Speaking of which, Colonel Phillips was included in this too. I think Jim made them add him.” He seems to remember where he was intending to go with his answer, “Anyway, it’s really the kids, grandkids and great grandkids now.”

Steve whistles and finally glances up. There’s something akin to pride on Trip’s face.

For a second Steve thinks that he can’t wait to tell Bucky, but the thought is painful. It’s a reminder that he isn’t done yet.

Trip seems not to notice Steve’s sudden blues as he chatters about yearly meet ups and holidays. He invites Steve to the next get together, saying that it’s been all everyone in the Facebook group has been talking about since he got out the ice. The next one isn’t until Independence Day which is still a few months away, so Steve agrees. Steve thinks he can have Bucky back and safe enough to have around people by then.

He needs this.

He says yes.

 

**Surprise #4: Sam works it out**

“You’re waiting for a train.” Sam cackles for the second time that evening, eyes on the horizon.

Steve doesn’t reply, knowing that he’s at least seen the film that Sam’s referencing this time but not quite able to remember the next line.

They’re sat on a metal bench somewhere in Poland, waiting for the night train that’ll take them to Belarus. Owing to the hour of the journey, the platform is quiet. A few young people clutching InterRail passes huddle together at the far end of the platform. Steve wonders if they will recognise him. Outside of America he’s found that a significantly reduced number of the population can identify him and it’s a blessing. Almost worth dealing with the frigid European weather for.

A few leaves fly past him in a breeze, catching the eye of a teenage girl. She watches the leaves and tracks their path with her eyes back to where Steve and Sam are sat. If she knows she’s looking at Captain America and the Falcon, she doesn’t give it away. Steve breathes a small sigh of relief when she goes back to a discussion with her friends.

“Hey man, you okay?” Sam nudges Steve with an elbow.

Steve makes a petty noise of protest at the nudge but the corners of his mouth lift anyway.

“Fine. Just thinking.” he replies.

Glancing at the station clock, Sam seems to hesitate, “Well then, seeing as you aren’t busy maybe you can answer this burning question I’ve got?”

Sensing the unease in Sam’s intonation has Steve a little concerned. He plays it cool, pretends to be counting the slats in the rails. “Shoot.”

For a long moment Sam says nothing and Steve wonders if he’s chickened out. Curiosity claws at him. He’s just thinking he should prompt Sam to go on when he does voluntarily.

“How old were you? When you fell in love with Barnes?”

It’s tenderly asked but Steve still feels his breath catch in his throat. It’s not as bad as the asthma attacks he used to have or the panic attacks he occasionally has now, but it’s still not good. He stares out at the countryside surrounding them and wills his heart rate to slow to something acceptable.

“I don’t think I can pinpoint it.” he whispers eventually.

Twenty-two, maybe: When Bucky came home smelling of booze and the perfume of the girl he had to be seen with so as not to raise suspicion, yet chose to give his kisses to Steve instead. Or eighteen, when Bucky had pulled double shifts at the docks just to buy Steve a second hand easel for his birthday. Possibly even six, when they had first met.

There’s no point denying it to Sam though. Steve doesn’t even care that Sam managed to work it out, doesn’t care that it’s apparently obvious. There’s no need to hide it now, despite the nerves he feels in his gut.

“I’ve known Bucky nearly my whole life, but it wasn’t until we were about seventeen that we…” he trails off. They hadn’t dated as such because two men couldn’t go on dates back then. But then what else to call it? “All of my adult life until ’45 was spent as Bucky’s fella. I don’t know when I didn’t love him.”

He’s too quiet for the group of teenagers to overhear, but he stiffens anyway when two of them break away from their group and pass them to get to the Ladies toilets. The sharp smell of their body spray lingers. Steve leans away from the fumes, the decades of habit of avoiding anything that might set his asthma off too deeply ingrained.

Sam thinks a moment before continuing, “And Peggy Carter?”

It’s not posed as a jab but Steve finds himself bristling at the mere insinuation of Peggy being a beard.

“I loved her,” he assures Sam, “Probably would have married her if things had been different. Peggy was – was real. I coulda lived with Bucky my whole life and know that I couldn’t really have him, but Peggy… The only thing that could have stood between us was if she had said no.”

He’d thought about this a lot over the past two years, often wondering if Bucky would have been his best man at the fantasy wedding. But then Steve remembers that Bucky had fallen before Peggy had kissed him. He would have had a wedding with no best man.

“I’m sorry.” Sam sounds like he regrets bringing up the subject at all.

Steve folds a leg up on the bench until his chin can rest on his knee. He wraps an arm around the limb to stop his foot sliding off the bench and thinks about how he used to be small enough to fit his whole body onto a chair with ease.

“You know, it wasn’t until I woke up that I discovered the name for it.” Steve says, talking to his knee.

“What’s that?”

“Bisexual.” His cheeks go red even as he tests the word out in the air. It feels loaded.

Sam nods sagely, picking at a dried patch of mud on his jacket.

“Yeah, ‘lot of things have changed since you’ve been under. I take it you read up on that particular history? Stonewall and all?” he waits for Steve to nod, “Can’t say I know what to call myself. I loved Riley more than any girl, but now that he’s gone it’s only ladies that turn my head.”

Steve can’t miss the pain lurking in the syllables of Riley’s name. He wonders if that’s what Bucky’s name sounds like in his mouth. Like something tangible and surreal and forever beyond grasp. Like something accidentally put on a pedestal, to be loved but not held. He expects that’s exactly how Bucky’s name sounds.

“Maybe he was your exception, Sam?” Steve hazards.

The complex world of sexualities and preference was still a world he was learning to navigate but he imagines it’s possible to have exceptions to the rule. That’s how life works.

“Yeah, Riley was nothing if not exceptional. I think he would have liked you.”

They fell quiet then, lulled into silence by the incessant demands of their bodies begging them to sleep. The train is still seven minutes out, if the station clock is to be believed. The teenagers emerge from the toilets and return to their friends. It might be the metallic cans in their hands but they don’t look at all tired. Steve thinks he’d like to introduce Bucky to energy drinks when they get him back.

Starting off as a low rumble, Sam starts to laugh. He tips his head back slightly and exposes the stubble on his upper throat and lower chin. Steve finds himself smiling at the outburst.

“Something funny?” he asks.

Sam claps him on the back and gets himself under control.

“I just thought about what a field day Fox News would have if they knew Captain America is bi.” he chuckles.

The idea of going public is alarming but one to be considered; so Steve files it away for another day. For now he indulges Sam’s good mood.

“I was raised by a single mother and I’ve been to more than one march to raise the minimum wage. Trust me, they hate me already.” he’s smiling even as he says it though, the memory of Sarah Rogers warm in his mind.

Wriggling down so that his head is resting against the back of the bench, Sam stares up at the stars visible beyond the awning. He looks peaceful.

“Have I told you about my family, Cap? There’s me, my sister and my brother. Ma took care of all of us until we – pardon the pun – flew the nest. She still babysits my two nephews though. Never knew a woman as hardworking as her.”

Steve tries to imagine what Sam’s mother could look like. He pictures a small woman with Sam’s kind eyes and quick smile. He thinks he’d like to meet the woman that raised a man like Sam Wilson.

“She sounds like a wonderful lady, Sam.”

Grinning, Sam keeps his eyes on the stars, “Yeah, she is. Darlene is her name.”

“Mine was Sarah.”

Sam starts a little, finally looking over at Steve, “No kidding? My sister is called Sarah.”

Huffing out a laugh, Steve says it’s a small world.

Off in the distance comes the sound of an incoming train. Sam might not be able to hear it yet so Steve gets to his feet and grabs his bag from the ground. His enhanced hearing gets him an eye roll before Sam is also on his feet, stretching out his arms and yawning.

“Well considering that we’re chasing down America’s most wanted man, who’s _also_ the amnesiac boyfriend of its national hero? Yeah I’d say it is.”

 

**Surprise #5: Trip knows Bucky’s family**

Independence Day comes and goes, stealing another year of Steve’s life with it. It passes cruelly, taunting at Steve with the knowledge that he broke a promise.

They haven’t caught Bucky yet. Haven’t even seen him for about three weeks. Usually they might catch a glimpse of a metal arm in a crowd or vaulting over rooftops but this time there’s been nothing. If he and Sam hadn’t also been taking down HYDRA cells on their travels it might have all been in vain. He can’t let himself think like that though. On the positive side of things, he’s able to fight with his shield again. Sam had given him a few pointed lectures on PTSD and letting go and other things Steve hadn’t been prepared to listen to. Sometimes Sam is too perceptive for his own good. He appreciates it though.

Trip is disappointed to hear that Steve won’t be making an appearance at the gathering he’d arranged but he agrees that the job comes first. Steve still hasn’t told him that the job is Bucky.

“How was it?” Steve asks with a guilty face.

He’s sat on a bed in a hotel room; legs crossed underneath him as he tilts his tablet screen back a little. On the other end of the screen Trip sighs, Skype turning the sound into something horrifically static-y. It’s technically July 5th in the Ukraine now, not quite there yet in America. Still, both men have finished their celebrations for the day.

“Everyone understood, Steve. You don’t get to be a hero by sitting around with the family and eating apple pie. It’s okay.”

Steve knows that Trip is trying to reassure him but it only makes him feel worse. It must show on his face because Trip hangs his head a little.

There’s a grunt of approval at the statement from Sam before he grabs a bottle of shower gel and disappears into the en-suite. Usually he’d want to join in on video calls seeing as the pair of them hardly got to speak to friends these days but they both smelt like blocked drains. Sam had won the coin flip so he got to shower first.

A thousand miles away, Trip rubs his forehead.

“And look,” he continues, “don’t feel bad but Marie’s kids were here.”

That’s a punch in the gut.

“The triplets?”

“Yeah. They don’t always come so it was a bit of a shock to my old lady, but they wanted to meet their uncle’s best friend. Their words, not mine.”

Suppressing a whine, Steve lets his head fall back against the plasterboard.

Marie Walters née Barnes is Bucky’s eldest living sister. Through the Howling Commandos Families group Steve had learnt a lot about what happened to Bucky’s three sisters after 1945. He didn’t know the particulars as none of this came from the sisters directly, but he knew Jean had been going to the annual gatherings until her death in the sixties, and her two sons still attend in her place. Little Rebecca, barely a teenager when Steve saw her last, had married twice and lost all of her children to miscarriages or stillbirths. Her second husband is dead now but Becca is in a nursing home back in America. Finally, middle child Marie moved to Canada after the war. She met her husband there and had triplets who then went on to have their own children.

It had taken a little while for Steve to learn all this.

“Hey, you still there, Cap? You froze up.” Trip’s voice sounds odd over the dodgy connection.

“Yeah, I’m here. Tell them I’m sorry, will you? Maybe next time…” Steve trails off.

Trip seems to understand the desire not to make new promises and he nods.

From the en-suite, Steve can hear the low tones of Sam singing in the shower. He likes to thinks Sam knows he needed a smile right then. Sam’s psychic like that.

“I can give you Marie’s landline if you want? And the number for Rebecca’s home?” Trip adds as an afterthought.

There’s a bang from upstairs, a slammed door maybe. The sounds of other people living a life free from this type of problem.

“I can’t call them, Trip. Not yet. I’ll take the numbers though, please.”

The last time Steve had seen the sisters was before the war and the last letter he sent to them was one of heartfelt anguish over Bucky’s fall. He’s worried they’ll blame him. He’s worried he’ll look at them and see Bucky’s smile. Steve decides then that he won’t contact the two remaining sisters until he can bring their brother home.

 

**Surprise #6: It isn’t Steve that finds Bucky**

Steve should have known better, in retrospect. He knew about Natasha’s past and how she had come to find herself working for S.H.I.E.L.D. instead of destroying it, but he had never really thought about the relevancy of that until now.

Clint Barton’s impassive face stares at Steve over Skype, looking casual despite just having said, “I found Barnes.” If there is something he’s good at, it seems to be locating Russian spies. Well, that and never missing a shot.

Over his shoulder, Sam whoops in joy, clapping Steve on the back. It’s a bit excessive considering they’re in a corner of a busy internet café. Luckily, the hustle and bustle of the shop covers the outburst. Steve raises his eyebrows, eyes locked on the screen of his tablet. Sam grins sheepishly in their video window.

“Yeah, okay. So where are you guys? How’m I gonna get him to you?” Clint asks.

“Wait,” Steve must have misheard, “Shouldn’t we be focusing on strategies for bringing him in? He doesn’t know you, Clint. It’ll be harder for you to-”

Clint frowns, “He’s already in my custody. Didn’t I just say that?”

This time Sam doesn’t react.

“You have him? How? Is he okay? Where is he?” Steve struggles to keep his voice down even as he shoots out the questions like bullets.

“Is he tied up?” Sam adds hastily, looking at the screen as though he expects Clint to be suddenly attacked from behind.

Both men wait for answers with baited breath, separately wondering how the hell someone not even on the mission could have found the Winter Soldier before them. It’s the end of July now, nearly two months since they’d last seen their quarry and over two weeks since there had been any activity they thought could be him. Coulson had been pressuring Steve to come home.

“He’s with Kate in the other room; she’s keeping an eye on him. He doesn’t seem all that hostile though. If it wasn’t for the arm I’d say I’m not even sure it’s the right guy.” Clint shrugs.

Steve remembers Kate as being Clint’s protégée of a sorts. He’d only met her a few times but there isn’t time to focus on that now.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks.

Scowling, Clint rests his chin on a hand.

“Didn’t catch that, Cap. Can you type it? Screen keeps freezing and I can’t lip read worth a damn like this.” the archer says.

Mentally kicking himself for forgetting Clint’s hearing difficulties, Steve repeats the question in the message box. He sends it, impatient for answers. Beside him, Sam’s found a stool and has dragged it over to their corner. The nervous leg jiggle he’s begun is beyond frustrating.

Clint makes a little noise of acknowledgment when the message comes through on his end and goes to type his answer before remembering he doesn’t need to.

“Look, it’s gotta be him because the dude we picked up is the John Silver to your Jim Hawkins.” Clint pauses, waiting to see if Steve will react to that reference. He doesn’t, “Yeah so he’s got the arm, but he’s nothing like Nat was. No crazy murder eyes, no mumbled Russian curses, nada. We found your boy doing volunteer work at a soup kitchen for crying out loud. Only noticed him when some kid asked if he was a Terminator.”

Steve looks to Sam for an answer and just gets a shake of his head.

It doesn’t sound possible.

“I need to see him.” Steve says, first to Sam then typed to Clint.

As the son of an Irish Catholic, ‘seeing is believing’ is never something Steve found himself saying. He was a man of faith in many aspects of life. However when it came to this, when it came to Bucky, Steve had to know for sure. Had to know Clint hadn’t just found a guy with a fancy prosthetic and the idea that pretending to be James Barnes would get him a free meal or two.

“He’s eating right now and I’m not going to come between that guy and his pizza for all the money in the world. Dude looks like he hasn’t eaten in months.”

A muscle in Steve’s jaw twitches but he can’t tell who he’s angry at. Clint, for denying him? HYDRA, for starting all this? Or himself, for not finding Bucky sooner? For not finding him at all.

Sam’s hand is heavy on Steve’s shoulder and Steve wonders when it got there. He leans into the pressure slightly and tries to think clearly.

Humming quietly, tunelessly, Sam shifts until he’s got one hand splayed over the keyboard of the tablet. He shoots off a question to Clint about Bucky’s wellbeing. Steve doesn’t know what he did to deserve Sam Wilson.

“He’s okay I guess,” Clint says, having read the text, “Had a pretty ugly dislocated shoulder that set badly but I redid it no problem. He barely winced.”

The last bit is said in an effect to comfort Steve, who had visibly jerked at the mention of Bucky’s shoulder. He wonders if Clint knew Steve was the one who dislocated it.

“He looks like hell though. Kate was trying to convince him to shave his beard when I left them at it.”

That’s really too much for Steve. The torrent of emotions he feels peak at the hysterical idea of Bucky with a beard and it’s all Steve can do to stop himself splitting in half to both laugh and cry simultaneously.

He asks Clint how much Bucky remembers then pushes the tablet into Sam’s hands. The understanding look he gets is for some reason intolerable. He ignores it and reaches for his water bottle.

“Can’t be sure, but it sounds like it’s all there. He knows he was Barnes but he also knows he was the Soldier. Kate reckons the soup kitchen was part of some sort of atonement or penance. From the sounds of it, he’s been moving around and helping out where he can. Don’t get your hopes up too much, Cap. I’m no shrink, but I think he’ll be okay.”

Steve lets out a strangled sob before he can force it down. Once again the buzz of the café covers for them, its noise a safety blanket as the super soldier comes apart. No one looks at the blond man crying on Skype to a far off friend, if anything that’s what internet cafes are for.

The next few minutes blur together as Sam takes over and books them a flight to JFK. Bucky had gone right back to America without them realising.

All right. If Bucky had gone home, then it was time for Steve to do the same.

 

**Surprise #7: Bucky really loves dogs**

It’s good to be home.

After everything they’ve been through to get this far, Steve hasn’t really planned what comes next. Sure, Bucky moves in with him and Sam in their new apartment in Brooklyn, a building not far from the one Clint owns. They amp the security measures on the place and when they say it’s to keep HYDRA out it’s not a complete lie.

Bucky is healing. He has a team of psychiatrists, the majority of his memories back and a small but tight unit of friends to help him. Clint and Kate have almost unexpectedly invited themselves into Bucky’s life. Steve hadn’t thought about it during the chase, but Clint makes a great friend for Bucky. Both are orphaned snipers with a history of mind control. Both, also, love dogs.

Once Bucky had been given the all clear to leave the apartment by his army of shrinks, the first place he went to was Clint’s building. While he had been being assessed and was on lock down, Bucky had been using Google Maps to plan out everywhere he wanted to go. (Clint insists that it wasn’t him who programmed the site into displaying a little purple icon on top of the virtual rendition of Clint’s building.) Bucky probably wasn’t prepared for the excitable ball of golden fluff that met him at the door. He had come home that evening with stories about Lucky that lit up his face in a way Steve missed.

Not long after that, Sam disappeared for a few days to visit his sister in DC. When he returned it was with a golden retriever at his heels.

“This is Albert, I got him from a shelter a few years ago and he’s been staying with Sarah while we’ve been away. I figured since we were in New York for the time being, he should join us. That a problem?”

Bucky had assured Sam that no, it really wasn’t and well, how could Steve refuse Bucky anything? The pair got on like a house on fire, going for walks in around the block and stealing the last of Steve’s leftovers in the middle of the night. He wasn’t a service dog and he had no formal training like some dogs bred to help vets did, but Albert gave Bucky something that Steve couldn’t.

After a few weeks, Steve starts to realise that he’s jealous. Bucky had made no mention of their shared past in any sense other than friends and it was hurting Steve beyond belief. He didn’t push it, knowing that Bucky had to remember for himself but he can’t help the fear that comes with the idea that Bucky might never remember what they were to each other.

One day, Sam catches Steve watching Bucky and Albert playing. The way Steve looks at Albert, it was like he blamed the dog for Bucky’s inability to remember.

“Pets love us unconditionally.” Sam tries to explain.

“ _I_ love him unconditionally.”

“No,” Sam says gently, “You love him on the condition that he’s Bucky Barnes. What you gotta accept is that sometimes he isn’t. He’s Barnes and he’s the Soldier and he’s a mix of the two all at once. He’s more than the man you went to war with, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t want to hear it, mostly because it’s true. He knows Bucky has changed, knows he has too. Maybe there’s no hope for the two young men from Brooklyn. He’ll have to make his peace with it.

“Are we going for a run then?” Steve asks loudly, clapping his hands together and making Albert look up.

Bucky grins at him from the floor and rubs the dog’s coat one last time before getting to his feet. Like Sam and Steve, he’s dressed for their habitual early morning run. He slips on Albert’s lead and hands it to Sam and they head out.

It’s a brisk morning, the summer sun not yet warming the park that consists of the majority of their route. Sam lets Albert off lead and the four race each other to the edge of the park like they do most mornings. Sam finally beats someone (the dog). Steve wins as he always does, but turns to jog backwards for the last few steps, nearly letting Bucky take the lead. There’s something satisfying about being able to keep up to Bucky. Before the serum he had no chance and then after it Bucky couldn’t keep pace with him. Now they were close enough in muscle and ability to give each other a real competition of it.

“Cocky.” Bucky pants as he comes to a stop and swats at Steve.

Laughing, Steve waves at Sam off in the distance. “What’s the matter, Buck? Not used to losing by now?”

Bucky pulls him into a headlock and the two wrestle until Sam arrives and breaks them apart with a breathless cry of, “Guys, please! There’s plenty of me to go around.”

The sun finally seems to have gotten into gear, warming the very air around them. All three men are sweating and in need of a drink, maybe some shade too. Albert doesn’t seem to be fussy though, making his way to the nearby duck pond and sticking his head into it.

“Oh no, Albert! Come on, old man. Don’t do that.” Sam chides, unwrapping the dog’s lead from his forearm, “Let’s take you home, bud.”

He clips the lead onto Albert’s collar and runs a hand over his coat to check the dog’s temperature. Frowning slightly, Sam straightens up.

“We’re gonna head on home and get him cooled down. See you back there.”

Steve nods and shields his eyes with a hand as he looks at Bucky’s confused face. Usually they all walked home together.

“Come on, I’m taking you for coffee.” Steve says.

Raising his eyebrows with a look that clearly translates his thoughts on drinking coffee in this building heat, Bucky shakes his head. He has learnt to go along with Steve’s whims without voicing his queries.

They find a quiet shop a few streets away and purchase a couple of drinks that are effectively ice and coffee in a plastic cup. Steve has gotten good at navigating the mysterious world of coffee over the last two years.

“So what’s this in aid of?” Bucky asks, not unkindly. He gestures at their twin drinks.

Reclining on his wooden chair, Steve pretends neither of them are cataloguing escape routes even as they sip companionably on their beverages. He doesn’t know how to begin. The walls around them are covered in coffee themed canvases and framed pictures as though the customers might not know they’re in a coffee shop.

Steve stirs his drink with a clear straw and scuffs his trainers against the floorboards.

“Steve?”

He meets Bucky’s eyes. The worry he sees there makes him feel guilty for making such a show of it, when all he wanted was to have this conversation in private.

“Don’t tell me, you’re finally pregnant.” Bucky jokes.

Chuckling, Steve nods before changing it to a shake of the head.

“I met this guy when I was looking for you.” He starts and immediately regrets when he sees how Bucky’s face goes dark, “His name is Trip, Agent Triplett of S.H.I.E.L.D. Buck, you won’t believe it but he’s Gabe’s grandson.”

Bucky relaxes a little as the shock sweeps over him.

“Gabriel Jones’ grandson?”

“Yeah. And it wasn’t just him; nearly all the Howling Commandos had kids, Buck! Trip helped me get in touch with them. They have get-togethers every year and they have this group online with a big family tree. It’s amazing.”

Steve knows he’s gushing a bit but he doesn’t care. Now that Bucky’s back they can go meet the families of their oldest friends. They can reunite with Bucky's sisters. It’s an exciting prospect.

“And the Commandos?” Bucky’s eyes fall to his drink, “They all dead?”

Even with the time it’s taken him to come to terms with it, the pain still blossoms in Steve’s chest as he says yes.

Over on the other side of the room a machine screams into life, drowning out anything else they could have said. The barista finishes the drink and take the money from the customer, shooting them an apologetic glance for the noise.

“You know, the next meet up is Thanksgiving. We’ve been invited by every kid old enough to hold a pen. I thought-”

“You mean you’ve been invited. Do they know about me, Steve? Does anyone?”

No, was the honest answer. Coulson had told Steve to hold off on telling anyone in case the media got hold of the story before Bucky was well enough and equipped to deal with them. There had been several meetings about what to do with Bucky once Steve and Sam had brought him home. Turns out no one had actually expected Steve to find him. Steve hadn’t complained though. After so long without his best friend, he was more than okay with not sharing him. A mentality he now realises is unhealthy.

“Come with me, Bucky. Everyone would love to meet you.”

Bucky scowls, “No.”

“But-”

“Leave it, Rogers.” his tone is dangerous so Steve decides not to push.

There would be time to bring this up again later. Steve is determined to go and he doesn’t want to face the remnants of his dead friends alone. He could build on his argument for next time.

“All right. How’s your drink?”

Bucky rolls his eyes like he knows exactly what Steve’s doing, “Sugary.”

Cracking a smile, Steve sip his own drink and licks his upper lip, “Shouldn’t be a problem for you. Always did have a sweet tooth, but it looks like HYRDA had good dental. They even fixed your snaggletooth.”

It’s not the first time they’ve spoken about HYDRA but it’s the first time Steve’s tried to joke about it. He watches Bucky tense almost unperceivably.

“You say that like it’s a good thing, punk. My snaggletooth added to my charm, tenfold. I miss it a little, actually.” he confesses with a smile that seems like more of a test than the genuine thing.

Steve thinks he can relate somewhat.

“Remember how I was before the serum? All those health problems that got fixed just like that?” he snaps his fingers for emphasis, “Fixed my colour-blindness too. I don’t know why, didn’t even know it would until I stepped out of Stark’s machine and got that first proper lungful of air.” he drains his cup, “But I didn’t want to lose that. My art tutor used to say part of my talent for art came from seeing the world different. Said I could use it to do something big one day. Now it’s gone and I never got the chance.”

He realises too late how bitter it sounds. He nearly takes it back, desperate to say how grateful he is to be healthy and not constantly living in fear of the next cold being the one to end him.

“Sometimes our flaws aren’t flaws. Sometimes they’re just imperfections.”

Bucky’s remark startles him out of his self-chastising. He looks up to find Bucky staring very seriously at him.

“I’m sure that sounded a lot more profound in your head, Buck.”

“Can it Rogers, I’m having a moment here.”

They smile together, a small, secret affair between just the two of them. For a moment everything falls away and there’s just the two of them. There’s no war, no dead friends, no HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D. Steve can believe he’ll get this Bucky back for good and he has an idea of how he might do it.

“There’s something else I wanted to tell you.” he begins.

“Well spit it out, I’m already in my nineties.”

“Trip told me where your sisters are. I was thinking we could pay them a visit. I haven’t told them about you yet, but Coulson won’t stop us. They’re family and they have rights.” he cuts himself short before he can babble any longer.

Bucky’s drink is melting on the table top around them, a small pool of icy water encroaching on Steve’s half of the surface. Bucky doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes glazed over as he thinks. Steve gives him time to think it over, already set on arguing until Bucky agrees to visit. A no to total strangers he could understand but these were his sisters. He had to.

“Okay.”

The word comes out as a scared, timid answer. It isn’t befitting of an ex-assassin at all.

“I want- I want to see them. When?” his eyes are nervous, as though Steve will suddenly retract the offer.

Slowly, Steve reaches forward and lays a hand on Bucky’s forearm. “As soon as it takes you to get a passport.”

 

**Surprise #8: Bucky’s arm doesn’t set off metal detectors**

The airport is packed as it always is. They had been hoping that seeing as it was September and children were in school, there would be less of a crowd to battle with. Alas, JFK never seems to have a dull day of the year, something Steve makes a mental note of now. They find Terminal 8 with a combination of luck and Sam’s directions. He had driven them to the airport seeing as the only vehicle Bucky and Steve owned between them was Steve’s new bike.

How they get through security with Bucky looking every bit shifty enough to be named suspicious is beyond Steve’s understanding. They do though, metal arm and all. Bucky hadn’t been happy to be out in public without a weapon of some kind but this was a special circumstance. Usually he didn’t leave the apartment with less than a gun and knife. Steve (who had to leave his shield back at home) thinks he understands. There’s a sense of vulnerability without their weapons of choice, superhuman bodies or not.

They amble around the duty free and retail shops quietly, neither interested in buying giant chocolate bars or obscenely large boxes of boiled sweets. When they pass an aisle taken up completely with cards (including get well soon cards) Steve tentatively takes Bucky’s hand in his own. He’s rewarded with a small squeeze before Bucky drops it and shoves his hands in his pockets. His face is grim.

Truth be told, he’s reacting better than Steve had been expecting. The news of Jean’s death had been hard to break, but there was something in Bucky’s face that said he had suspected as much. That Marie and Rebecca are still alive is a miracle in itself, though Marie’s doctors say her miracle is running out. As soon as Bucky had heard she was dying in a hospital in Toronto he had demanded to see her. Steve hadn’t dreamt of denying him so here they are; about to board a plane to YYZ.

“You want to get something to eat?” Steve asks, leading them back out into the atrium.

Bucky says nothing, his silence as good as a no.

“We’ve got plenty of time before the flight,” Steve presses on, “We should get drinks at least.”

The subtle twitch of Bucky’s jaw muscle betrays his annoyance at Steve for trying to change his mind. They’d talked about this. Bucky needs to make his own decisions as often as he can, to fight the mental conditioning that tells him he isn’t allowed to want.

“I’ll eat on the plane.”

A compromise.

Steve takes them past a store called Hudson’s News and spares a second to read the headlines. Predictably, they only make him feel worse. Beside him, Bucky mutters something about going to take a leak and strides off. Steve watches him go, wishing there was something, anything he could do. He may not be related to Marie but he had loved her as he had loved each of Bucky’s sisters. As an only child, they were the closest Steve would ever get to sisters of his own.

He looks down at the broadsheets screaming about death, doom and despair. Today is not going to be a good day, he can see that. He doesn’t have a carry-on bag, so he fishes his wallet out of his khakis and pays for the most reputable paper he can find. The flight will be just under two hours long and with his phone stuck in flight mode, he’ll need something to do.

“Thanks,” Steve says, taking his paper.

Finding a free patch of wall to lean against out of the foot traffic of the terminal, Steve scans the front page for anything that could be a problem. Technically he’d booked leave for this weekend in order to visit Marie with Bucky and not have to suddenly dash away on Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. business. Regardless of that, he feels like he should keep on top of new developments.

He’s just reading up on a situation in Russia when he realises Bucky still isn’t back yet. Worried, Steve tucks his paper under his arm and glances at his wristwatch. Their plane will be boarding in the next few minutes. After all the clamour Bucky had made about getting a passport, arranging their flights and hotel, Steve can’t imagine that he’d chicken out.

He goes looking for him.

“Bucky?” he calls, opening the door to one of the many male washrooms.

The room appears empty at first glance, though that might be due to the sobbing coming from one of the stalls. Steve doesn’t stop to take in details, instead crossing the floor in half a second and hovering anxiously outside the only occupied stall.

“That you in there, Buck?” he asks.

His words are met with a hiccupping sob, the kind Bucky used to do when they were little and Steve had gotten dangerously ill. Steve hasn’t heard Bucky cry like this for decades.

He rests his forehead against the door.

“I was right.”

The words are softly spoken, almost too quiet for Steve to catch.

“When HYDRA- when they captured me,” there’s a sharp intake of breath from Bucky, “and Zola chose me to be his next lab rat, I never thought I’d see them again. I lay there, thought about how long it’d be until… until the army would send out a letter of condolence. Thought about which one of them would hear first, if they’d be together.” his voice breaks, “I thought about how they’d have to tell _you_.”

“Bucky,” Steve says helplessly.

“And I was right. You got me out and we wrote to them and said it was okay but- but I still didn’t see them again. Never got to see Jean. Becca is as ill as Peggy and _Marie_ -”

The sobbing starts up again, an ugly, scary noise. Steve bangs on the door with his fist and finally Bucky opens up to him. His eyes are red and bloodshot, leaking tears like a faulty pipe. Snot dribbles down his face, mixing with the tears there. He’s open mouthed, breathing hitching as he finds he can’t inhale through his nose anymore.

Steve surges forward and crushes Bucky into his chest, one hand coming up to thread his fingers into Bucky’s long hair. A warm wetness spreads on his shoulder as Bucky continues to cry but Steve doesn’t mind. His other hand rubs soothingly up and down on Bucky’s back.

“We’re going to see her now, Buck. She’s expecting us, remember? And when we get home we can visit Becca and the cemetery. It’ll-”

But Steve can’t bring himself to say it’ll be okay.

Sniffing, Bucky mumbles something into Steve’s broad shoulder. The childlike nature of it breaks Steve’s heart even though he can’t hear what Bucky is saying. He asks him to repeat himself and Bucky draws back enough to look Steve in the eyes.

“She doesn’t know about me, Steve.” he looks terrified.

Steve frowns, “Marie’s memory is fine, it’s Becca that-”

“No,” he whines, desperate for Steve to get it, “She doesn’t know about my arm, about who I am. I don’t deserve to have a family after what I’ve done, Steve.”

Dumbstruck, Steve wipes a fresh tear away with his thumb. Bucky’s hands have settled on his waist.

“Listen to me, Bucky. None of that matters. Your sister is dying and she needs her big brother. It isn’t about what you deserve; it’s about what _she_ deserves. Okay?”

He hates himself just a little for his words but he knows it’s the right thing to say. Bucky will have years to come to terms with what he does and doesn’t deserve but Marie only has a few weeks left at the most. They can heal Bucky later.

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. He seems to be composing himself, wiping away his tears and steadying his breathing. Eventually, he pulls away from Steve and slides past him to wash his face in a sink.

“I think we should tell her about us.” Bucky says suddenly.

Steve had been picking up his paper from the floor, fallen at some point during their hug. At Bucky’s comment he looks up in surprise.

“Yeah?”

They haven’t been dating long, a few weeks by Steve’s count. He’s not even sure that Bucky remembers their past as lovers and for now he’s still content to leave it be. He has what he wants and filling Bucky’s head with facts he can’t anchor in his mind seems wrong.

“I don’t know how we’ll break it to her.”

“I think she already knows, Buck.”

Steve’s only half joking. He joins Bucky at the sink and drops the paper into a dry basin, freeing his hands to rest lightly on his boyfriend’s shoulders. The human one feels as tense as the cybernetic one. He wants to press up against Bucky’s back and let his goodwill stream through into his body but he refrains, leaving the space he knows Bucky needs.

“Do you remember how we met?” Steve asks, watching their faces in the mirror.

He’s not surprised when Bucky shakes his head regretfully.

Steve’s never been much of a storyteller but he tries now.

“I was six. I’d just hit a growth spurt so I thought I was all that, but I was still shorter than every other boy my age. I was coming home from market with some things for my mom when I saw a bunch a kids picking on two little girls. One of the boys tried to lift the younger girl’s skirt and she was crying. They had to have been around my age and they didn’t have a chance, so I dropped everything and ran to help them.

“Thought myself a real hero for all of three seconds. That’s about how long it took me to get socked in the face. It was okay though, they were whaling on me now and they’d forgotten the girls. I wasn’t any good in a fight then, didn’t even know how to make a fist. Not that it mattered, they had me pinned down with my arms behind my back before I really knew what was going on.

“That’s when you showed up. Turns out the girls were Jean and Marie, separated from their brother on their way home. They told you what was going on and you stepped in immediately, kicked the asses of those bullies and gave me a hand up. You were so grateful, you’d been so worried about them. The girls picked up my mom’s shopping and you took me home. Said you owed me a debt for stepping up. I couldn’t shake you ever since. That's the kind of man you are, Bucky. That's who Marie needs.”

Bucky smiles weakly. Turning his head he presses his lips to Steve’s cheek. There’s understanding in it.

“You think she’ll be okay with it? That they both will?” he asks softly.

“You’re their brother and I’ve been as good as one to them for longer than Alaska has been a state. They’ll be okay with it.”

Despite having no proof, Steve knows there’s truth in his words.

Over the loudspeaker a call goes out for their flight to Toronto. It jolts them back to the moment. With a small sigh, Bucky takes Steve by the hand and drags him out of the washroom, half jogging in his haste to get to the line for boarding.

“Bucky! We’ve got time, we’ve got time.” Steve reassures him, allowing himself to be pulled through the crowd.

Bucky takes no heed though, getting them in line quickly. His earlier fears thankfully seem to have been quelled after Steve’s story. Steve reclaims his hand long enough to get his passport and boarding pass out and then he’s threading his fingers into Bucky’s again. This time, Bucky doesn’t let go.

 

**Surprise #9: Bucky has a job and it’s not with S.H.I.E.L.D.**

Bucky starts working in the retirement home that Rebecca lives in when they get back from Canada. It’s not a bad job by all accounts and there’s plenty of on the job training for him. Mostly it’s just cleaning and chatting to residents. He’s not in charge of meals but he does have to make sure everyone is taking their medication on time. It’s a therapeutic kind of responsibility for him. A way of doing good. After his first day he’d come home joking that it’s not as noble as Captain America’s day job. Steve thinks it’s perfect for him.

The first time Bucky had visited his youngest sister he hadn’t left her room for days. Steve had had to bribe him into coming home, showering and sleeping before going back. It was like a burst dam. Bucky had gone so long without seeing her that it had stacked up internally. The dam broke and Bucky couldn’t function until he had clocked enough hours with the old lady he barely recognised. He didn’t seem deterred by her waning memory, if anything that brought the pair of them closer.

It broke Steve’s heart.

With time he began to branch out, meeting other residents and letting Rebecca out of his sight. It wasn’t long after Bucky had learnt the names of every resident and staff member that the head care worker had approached him with a job.

Steve sits at dinner with Sam and they listen to Bucky’s stories about the people in his care. He hears about the war stories Bucky swaps with the older patrons, the gaps in his history that get filled in for him and the dire warnings to avoid bananas. They learn that the old man in the room next to Rebecca has his eye on Bucky’s sister and can’t understand why the newest staff member is so protective of her. Occasionally Sam even lets Bucky take Albert to work, the dog a welcome addition to the ritualistic and repetitive days the residents are accustom to.

One day Bucky comes home with a blue woollen sleeve covering his left arm and tells Steve that one of the ladies knitted it for him because his arm “looks cold” and “your handsome fella will thank me”. Steve makes sure to deliver a box of chocolates to that particular lady on his next visit.

It’s nice. They become domestic. They still struggle with Bucky’s recovery from time to time, however. Steve thinks he’ll always react badly to loud noises and the nightmares will never really end for either of them. He’ll also still be dashing out at 3AM to answer the call to assemble, but he figures this is as close to domestic bliss as a pair of genetically enhanced super soldiers can get. He says as much to Bucky over breakfast one day.

“Don’t you go getting sappy in your old age, Cap. There’s still time to put you in a care home of your own. Room 18 is free, come to think of it.”

Sam laughs at them both and throws a piece of bacon for Albert to catch.

“Speaking of rooms,” Steve segues like a pro, “Sharon and Trip have both been hounding me, asking if we’re going to the next meet up and if we’d like to stay with Trip? It’s first come, first serve for the good linen .”

“Oh is that so?” Bucky asks drolly, “Fine. Call them and arrange it all.”

Steve shares a look with Sam over his porridge.

“Really?” he asks doubtfully, ready for Bucky to say he’s pulling his leg. He's been pestering Bucky for weeks to agree, mostly because Trip heard that Bucky is alive and has demanded to meet the living legend. 

“Yeah. Marie wants me to say hi to Jean’s boys and you said they go to these things, right?”

“They do.” Steve confirms.

“Then it’s settled, we’re spending Thanksgiving with total strangers.”

 

-

 

Visiting Marie must have done more for Bucky than Steve had initially realised. It was like seeing his sister in that hospital bed had made everything real for him. Up until that moment both men remembered the girls as children playing in a garden of a long forgotten house. One look at Marie’s world-worn face and feeble body had been all it had taken to bring into light the reality of the years lost. Thankfully someone had had the foresight to warn her ahead of the meeting, but it was clear she was just as shocked to see her brother as her brother was to see her. Steve had left them to it, choosing to give them the time they needed together.

He’s doing a similar thing now.

Having visited Rebecca multiple times in the past week or two, Steve can now find his way around the care home with ease. He thinks Bucky could do it blindfolded with his metal arm behind his back, but that’s beside the point.

Reaching her door with time to spare, Steve knocks loudly and waits outside. He shifts the StarkTablet to his other arm.

“Come in.” a voice calls.

He does, closing the door behind him.

Rebecca Barnes is a firecracker of a woman, her looks having stayed with her until the end – a feat not everyone can claim. She watches Steve approach with a red lipped smile and a playful wink of a green eyelid. If Steve didn’t know better, he’d say Rebecca is well enough to be outside with her brother today. Sadly, he does know better.

“How are you today, Becca?” Steve greets fondly, taking up residence in the chair more commonly inhabited by Bucky.

Rebecca waves a veiny hand dismissively, “You still won’t let me have a gin and tonic so I’d say as well as can be expected, doctor.”

Suppressing the urge to tell her who he really is, Steve smiles. “Well we can’t have our favourite patient mixing meds and alcohol. It wouldn’t go down well.”

She rolls her eyes at that but a pink tinge colours her cheeks. She’d always had a soft spot for Steve, whether she can remember it or not.

“I’ve got something for you here, Becca. You remember your brother James?”

Rebecca looks at Steve as though he’s the one with memory problems. He's thankful she’s in one of her more lucid states today, her mistaking his identity notwithstanding.

“Of course I do. Is he ready for the call?”

Flipping open the case on the StarkTablet Steve logs into the home’s wifi and brings up Skype. He may have been born before world war two but it had taken him less than two years to catch up with technology. After all, he had the sharp mind of a man in his mid-twenties.

“Should be coming online now.” Steve says to himself.

Sure enough, Bucky’s username pops up onscreen and within seconds he’s calling Steve.

“Can you hear me okay?” Bucky’s voice is a little marred by the mic on his phone but otherwise he’s fine.

Rebecca lights up at the sound of her brother. She plucks the tablet out of Steve’s hands greedily.

“You’re late.” she greets in a sing song voice.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky’s voice cries back with a notably cheerful tone, “Have you ever tried getting wifi in a cemetery, Becca? It’s surprisingly difficult.”

She laughs in delight and the two make small talk for a few moments. Steve thinks about leaving but every now and then Bucky will draw him into the conversation with an offhand comment. He knows what he’s doing. Steve appreciates it, but he doesn’t need Bucky to include him in this family thing, not today.

“Hang on, Marie’s trying to get through.”

Bucky taps quietly for a second, out of Steve’s line of sight in the way Rebecca is holding the tablet. He doesn’t need to see to know what’s happening. They’d been planning this for a few days, just waiting for Marie to be available and for Rebecca to be well enough to sustain the call. Jean is the last sister Bucky is yet to visit.

“All right that should have done it. This is New York calling Toronto, do you read me?”

Bucky’s easy attitude draws a laugh from a new voice as Marie joins the call.

“Roger Bravo, this is Mike. Receiving loud and clear, over.” she relays jovially.

At her words Steve remembers that Marie had been in the Marine Corps Women’s Reserve. She had been one of the first to join after it was established in 1943, not long after news had come through of Bucky’s imprisonment.

“Romeo and Sierra are on the line too, say hi.” Bucky says.

“Actually Sierra has to go.” Steve says firmly, “But give Jean my love.”

He can’t see Bucky’s face when he says, “Aww, Steve-” but he can picture it clearly enough, crestfallen in a cemetery holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and his phone in the other. This is their moment as siblings to mourn their sister together finally, Steve isn’t going to intrude.

“I’ll be back for that tablet later.” Steve tells Rebecca before he slips out of the room. She barely looks up.

Out in the hallway he takes in a deep lungful of air and focuses on slowly expelling it. He tells himself that he’ll pay his respects next time he visits the cemetery. Jean is buried in the same site that Steve’s parents are, likely not a coincidence. The first Sunday of every month he’ll go spend a morning with them, leaving flowers and updates about his life. He usually ends up talking more to his mother than his dad, but he thinks that’s pretty normal seeing as he can’t remember his father at all.

Someone else seems to remember Joseph Rogers though, because occasionally Steve will arrive at the graves only to find mystery flowers on both his and Sarah’s graves. It’s no secret that they were Captain America’s parents, but sometimes he wishes the public wouldn’t pry so deep into his personal life. He wishes he could have one thing that’s for him and the people he loves. That’s part of the reason he isn’t with Bucky today. While Bucky can go out in public without being mobbed, Steve always draws crowds. The last thing Bucky needs when he sees that gravestone is the weight of a dozen paparazzi cameras.

Pushing his fingers through his hair, Steve lets his eyes drift shut. He’s a soldier damn it, he should be able to deal with death by now. Yet still he’s shaken more and more by the evidence that life went on without him. He thinks of the bedridden old women talking to the brother that’s both older and younger than them and he wants to cry. Bitterly, he’s almost glad that he had no one to come back to after the ice.

That’s not true though. There’s Peggy. Steve shoves his hands in his pockets and opens his eyes, deciding to go for a walk. He thinks about visiting Peggy in DC. After the Battle of New York he had moved there to be near her but now that her Alzheimer’s is even worse and he has roots in New York, Steve finds that he doesn’t want to leave. As much as he misses her, his place is here.

Muscling through the doors that lead to the courtyard, Steve decides right then and there that New York is, and will always be, his permanent home.

 

**Surprise #10: Thanksgiving is a day to celebrate**

In the past, Thanksgiving has been a bad time for Steve. Before the war he was too poor to do more than buy fresh meat for the table: during the war it was forgetting in the blur of things, and after? After the war, after the ice, Steve couldn’t find anything to be thankful for. Safe to say, that has changed.

He and Bucky arrive in the Hamptons on the back of Steve’s bike in the early afternoon. They’d gotten lost three times and stopped to consult a map twice. Steve is seriously considering asking Tony to install a bike-friendly GPS.

“Fancy. You sure we’re at the right place?” Bucky asks as they dismount on the driveway.

Even with a fleet of cars parked both on the drive and up and down the street nearby, it’s a fair question. Trip’s home is what Steve wouldn’t hesitate to call a mansion. He had expected large but he hadn’t expected _this_ somehow. The property is set back from the road and enclosed within a sleek black fence.

“Looks like Gabe did alright for himself after the war.” Steve comments.

“No points for guessing that, buddy.”

Bucky stows his helmet in one of Steve’s saddlebags and sweeps his real hand uselessly through his helmet hair. Steve removes his own and suspects he doesn’t look much better.

“Yo, Steve!” a familiar voice cries.

Standing at the open front doors of the building is Trip, dressed in a hideous sweater and jeans that didn’t look like they’d be able to adjust for turkey. He bounds down two stone steps to them, holiday cheer overflowing in every little action he makes.

“Trip.” Steve greets warmly, taking his hand and pulling him into a one armed hug. “I don’t think I really need to tell you who this is.”

“No you don’t,” Trip agrees, turning to Bucky, “Sergeant Barnes, I’m Agent Antoine Triplett with S.H.I.E.L.D., the new one. It’s an honour to meet you. You can call me Trip. Welcome to our Howling Commandos family meet up.”

“That’s a mouthful.” Bucky notes. “Call me Bucky.”

Trip grabs the bags that Steve had been unstrapping from the bike and gestures for them to follow him. “Yeah, we never can decide on the right name for us all.”

They follow him into the foyer where an older black woman waits patiently for them. She introduces herself as Trip’s mother, Sabine. With a few quick words she sends Trip off to deposit Steve and Bucky’s bags and insists on giving them the grand tour of the property.

“The house was left to Antoine by his grandfather after he passed away. It’s a big old thing but usually it’s just me and the dogs here. Antoine is too busy saving the world and Jacques’ children don’t visit much.”

Steve and Bucky exchange a confused look outside the drawing room.

“Oh you don’t know?” Sabine looks delighted to get to be the one to share the news, “Gabriel and Jacques were lovers. Not at first, you understand. They came home to France and tried to settle down with wives and families but it wasn’t meant to be. After Gabriel’s wife died he told everyone that he loved Jacques and intended to live with him until they could marry. My ex-husband – Trip’s father – never spoke to Gabriel again.”

It’s incredible, to hear the life stories of friends condensed into a short paragraph like that. Steve had never suspected that Jones and Dernier were that close, but then he and Bucky had tried to hide the true nature of their relationship at first too. (They had thought they were doing a job of it until Dugan had accidentially let it slip that they'd known all along.) Judging by Bucky’s expression, he hadn’t known about their friends either.

Sabine laughs merrily and takes them through to the kitchen where a small army of people are working on the main meal of the deal. At their entrance the people look up. Steve almost gasps as he sees women with Dugan’s red hair, a man with Dernier’s eyes, multiple people with the features of Colonel Phillips and one of Marie’s triplets. Beside him, Bucky has frozen.

“Someone get the good Captain and the Sergeant a drink before they faint.” Sabine orders.

At least four people rush to comply, laughing in an embarrassed fashion as they do.

“Introductions, perhaps?” a voice says from the man with Dernier’s eyes.

There’s a general hum of approval and Sabine hushes them before launching into names, birthdays, genealogy and more. By the end of it all, Steve realises he’s forgotten half of what he’s just learnt. Fortunately at this point Sharon Carter arrives. She greets everyone, introduces herself to Bucky and none too shyly drags them out of the kitchen.

“I’ve got something for you both.” she says without preamble.

“Is it going to help me remember which cousin is related to which?” Bucky grumbles, good mood a little put out by the daunting memory task. Somehow he's already managed to confuse Phillips' eldest granddaughter with Dernier's second daughter. 

Pulling something out of her large handbag, Sharon smiles, “Lucky guess. It’s a cheat sheet.”

It’s actually two cheat sheets, one of each of them. Titled simply as “Howling descendants” it lists every person (both present today and not) and says which Commando they are related to. There are even photos on the back. It reads as follows:

 

 **Agent Sharon Carter** , though I’m Peggy’s niece I always attend. Peggy can’t leave her home due to her Alzheimer’s and this is the third year she hasn’t been present. Peggy has a son and a daughter by her husband. All are dead, ~~killed in a mass shooting.~~

Falsworth and his wife are dead but they have two grown children **Jacqueline** and **Brian**. Brian is in a relationship with **Roger Aubrey** and they have no children. Jacqeline’s son is dead but she has a **baby grandson named John.** (Don't ask about John's parents, it's a touchy subject)

Dugan is dead. He is survived by his **wife, four children and many grandkids,** including **granddaughter Daisy of S.H.I.E.L.D.** (If they've got red hair they're probably one of the Duganes. Daisy is a good person to talk to if you're overwhelemed)

Morita is dead. He and his wife were unable to conceive and so they **adopted twins**. They and their **children** all live together and make a habit of visiting the other clan members. (Honestly I still can't tell the twins apart so don't feel bad about that.)

Jones and his wife are dead. He has ~~a son Gabriel Jones Jr and~~ a grandson, **Trip**. After Gabe’s wife died he announced that he loved Dernier and intended to live with him. His son didn’t forgive him but Trip did. **Trip’s mom** loved her father-in-law and she split up with Trip’s dad over it. Gabe, Jacques, Trip and his mum all lived together afterwards. Trip took his mother’s maiden name after the divorce. (Don't mention Trip's dad either)

Dernier married after the war and had children, but was unhappy in his marriage. After Jones’ wife died Dernier divorced and came out to his family. His wife no longer speaks to him but his **three children** all kept in touch. He apparently thought of Trip and his mum as his own family. He died not long after Jones. (Dernier's kids actually live in France near their mom. Their accents are a little thick for the first few days when they get back into the States. Try not to joke about it too much)

Phillips had **children, grandchildren and some great grandchildren**. Many of them now serve in the forces, but not all. They always visit, bringing food and an astonishing amount of cheer. (Lots of alcohol too. Don't tell them you can't get drunk because they _will_ see it as a challenge)

Most of the Howling Commandos either didn’t have siblings or their siblings have now died, but Bucky’s three sisters all used to attend the meet ups. Jean kept going until her death in the sixties and her two sons (named **James and Steven** ) still attend when they can. Marie, her husband and her triplets all went until they moved to Canada. **The triplets still visit with their own kids.** Rebecca married but never had children. Her husband is now dead and her second husband is too. (You two probably already knew this but I thought I'd include it anyway. Plus Marie's got a lot of grandkids to keep track of)

 

“Why are some names emboldened?” Steve asks, thumbing over to the back.

Sharon zips up her bag and looks over at the paper in Steve’s hands, “Those are the people you can expect to see here today. Thanksgiving is usually our biggest get together. Hopefully this will help you a little.”

“It’s great, thank you.” Bucky says, pocketing his.

From the thought Sharon’s put into this, Steve wonders how long it took her to learn everyone’s names. Or maybe she had grown up with this tight knit bunch and was just a more practical woman than he gave her credit for? He can’t tell.

Sharon leads them out into the garden where they’ll be eating tonight. Long tables nearly the entire length of the backyard stand on the grass waiting to be ladened down with the food cooking in the kitchens. Children of all ages play at the side of the house, too busy with their game of tag to stop and pay attention to the strangers.

“Welcome to the family.” Sharon smiles.

 

-

 

It’s not until everyone is sitting down to dinner that the talking really begins. Steve learns that there’s a lot of debate over whether they should be called “Howling descendants” or “Commando Clan”. He says he likes the last one because it reminds him of something once said to Dugan – “Being a Howling Commando doesn't give you permission to go commando”. Dugan’s kids don’t know that story and Steve promises to fill them in on everything he remembers about their father.

“Now Steve if we’re telling any story it should be about how the boys used to call you mom.” Bucky interrupts, mouth full of turkey.

“If we’re telling that one then they’ll find out you were “Mrs Rogers”.” Steve says in a stage whisper.

The children at the table giggle, already charmed by the two men.

The evening wears on, seeing Steve admit he hasn’t tasted cooking so nice since Sam made lasagne for them last. The adults give him recipes, phone numbers and glasses of wine. It gets a bit overwhelming. Eventually Steve has to excuse himself and go for a wander at the bottom of the garden.

He finds Bucky (who had excused himself to go to the bathroom fifteen minutes ago) playing with Trip’s dogs and some of the children who’d managed to sneak away from their parents’ watchful eyes. Bucky calls Steve over and introduces the children to his boyfriend, Captain America. Needless to say, the children are a little star struck to see him, but not as much as usual. Steve supposes they’ve grown up hearing stories of their grandparents and great grandparents helping him, so he’s not all that surprised.

“Have you met Chris yet?” Bucky asks over the children’s heads.

“Your nephew? Yeah, he was telling me how happy our visit made Marie. He seems pretty disappointed to have missed us.” Steve replies.

Bucky nods, throwing a tennis ball that has both children and dogs flying after it.

“Couldn’t get the time off work, he told me. It was nice to finally meet him.” Bucky’s eyes are vacant as he speaks, as though he’s talking about another man’s family.

Steve thinks he understands. Stepping closer, he threads a hand through Bucky’s lose hair. It’s calming, grounding, something they both need. 

“It’ll feel real soon.” he promises.

Simply nodding, Bucky takes Steve’s hand in his and takes them back to the other adults. 

“There you are!” Sabine chirps, “We’re about to light the candles.”

Trip speaks up before any questions can be asked, “It’s a tradition of ours to light candles for those who’ve passed on. We were thinking you guys would like the first five?”

Steve’s hand tightens in Bucky’s, a lump forming in his throat.

“We used to pour wine but then someone complained we were wasting it.” a Dugan girl pipes up.

They stand facing the children of the men they once ran with and they say it together.

“We’ll do it.”

 

**Surprise #11: It’s Bucky that asks**

March blooms cold this year, bringing with it the news of Marie’s death. In the end she had held on longer than doctors could have predicted.

Her funeral is a tight knit affair and somehow it’s kept out of the public eye, something Steve reckons he owes thanks to Coulson for. It’s attended by all of the Howling descendants and even a few Avengers, though Sam and Natasha are mainly there to support Bucky. Becca watches from her hospital bed, a Stark Tablet hooked up to Bucky’s phone.

When they get home that night they say nothing to each other before going to sleep. Steve wakes early and leaves Bucky in bed as he goes to shower. He’s got a long day of meetings and paperwork that he’s gotten behind on what with the funeral preparations and caring for Bucky. Bucky had shouldered a lot of the responsibility for his sister’s fees and organising how she would be put to rest. The insistence to help had rubbed one of the triplets the wrong way and the whole week had been fraught with anger and hostile words as a result.

Steve lets the water cover his upturned face and tries not to think about it. He’d never had to bury a sister but he’d buried his mother and he knew what that was like. It was better if Steve didn’t get involved.

It’s with that thought in mind that he goes to work.

Hours roll by and eventually Steve is stumbling back over the threshold, tired but relived to be home. He leaves his shoes and coat by the door and goes in search of Bucky.

He finds him in the kitchen, head snapping up with a vaguely guilty look and he sets the table. The curtains are pulled shut and the lights are low (dimmer switches are one of Steve’s favourite inventions of the 50s). A staggering amount of candles flicker in strategic points around the room. They’re on the small dining table, the slate work surface and there’s even a few in the plant pots. Steve makes a mental note to keep an eye on that fire hazard, he’s fond of his cacti.

“What’s this?” Steve inquires as though it’s not obvious.

Bucky straightens up, wiping his palms on an apron. He treats Steve to a crooked smile and gestures to the work surface brimming with food and drink. Two freshly poured cocktails stand closest to Steve, Manhattans if he had to guess.

“We had reservations at that restaurant Tony recommended,” Bucky begins, reaching for the cocktails, “But we never got to go.”

Steve accepts his drink, thinking it’s just like Bucky to know he still likes to drink even if he can’t get drunk. He sips carefully, trying not to disturb the cherry at the bottom of the glass.

“They were for last night.” Steve says, remembering.

Bucky nods, turning his back for a moment as he checks on a pot on the stove. He adjusts the heat and spares the oven a glance. Seemingly deciding it’s okay, he turns back and picks up his drink.

“We won’t get reservations there again for another few months, I even played the Captain America card but it didn’t work.”

“ _Bucky._ ”

The rascal grins and downs his drink. Fishing the cherry out of his glass, he bites it off the stem and swallows loudly. There’s a gleam in his eyes that Steve wasn’t expecting to see so soon.

“Anyway, I'd planned that night for months and thought I’d make it up to you.” he continues, running the stem over his bright lips.

“I don’t know what I could have possibly done to deserve this.” Steve says.

He finishes his drink and sets it down by a skinny candle. Bucky had always had a thing for perfection, a trait only enhanced at the hands of HYDRA. It carries through into his life now, bleeding into his day to day schedule. 

“Don’t be stupid, Stevie. Don’t know what I would have done these past few days without you. Or before that.” Bucky ends his sentence abruptly but what goes unsaid is loud enough for them both to hear.

“No, I meant I don’t know what I did to deserve getting food poisoning from my boyfriend.”

Bucky laughs at that, the atmosphere back in a positive place. At his instructions, Steve finds himself seated at their table and waiting patiently for “the meal to make you eat your words, pal.”

“Where’s Sam and Albert? You like them too much to off them?”

He watches Bucky move around the kitchen with confidence, washing up as he goes. It takes him a moment to realise that Bucky’s wearing dark jeans and a button up shirt underneath that apron. He looks like one of those contestants from the cooking shows Sam likes to watch crossed with a dancer from Natasha’s favourite show. He looks at peace, even as his peas boil over.

“Sam had a thing and Al is at the groomers.” Bucky replies offhandedly, as though it was normal for the two of them to have the apartment to themselves.

Steve wonders if Sam’s “thing” is to let Bucky grieve without having to deal with putting on a front for anyone.

A few moments lapse in silence as Bucky dishes up. He opens the oven to reveal a small chicken, though Steve knew that already from the smell wafting over to him in his seat. It looks wonderful but then he remembers what Bucky’s cooking had been like in the thirties.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bucky says, carving the chicken clumsily, “but Sam gave me some tips. I know you used to be our Betty Crocker but how hard can meat and veg be?”

It turns out, not that hard. The chicken is a little cool in the middle and the roast potatoes accompanying it are a smidgen burnt but overall it’s better than Steve was expecting. The peas and bread sauce are perfect. He says as much to Bucky, happy to see the look of delight cross his face. His apron is gone now, hanging up in the cupboard they hide the vacuum cleaner in.

“You really pulled this off, Buck. Maybe you should go into catering?” Steve suggests.

Bucky takes that as the joke it is and flashes his teeth when he grins. He looks jubilant, like he just realised all over again that he's a free man.

“Honest truth is I don’t know what I’m going to do now. Wouldn’t mind going into something that’ll get those cars in the air though. Tony told me he refuses to keep his dad’s promise, so it looks like someone else will have to step up and give the nation what it needs.”

“And the nation needs flying cars?” Steve spears a small potato.

Bucky looks at him like he’s crazy, “Of course.”

Chuckling, Steve polishes off his meal. With a content sigh, he gazes over at the man who somehow fought his way to be sitting opposite him. He’d never understand how Bucky was able to overcome the horrors of his past to be here. To call it miraculous isn’t credit enough to him. Catching him looking, Bucky winks at him. Within a few more bites he’s done and on his feet, collecting their plates and batting Steve’s hand away when he tries to help, (“You can help by not getting under my feet, Rogers.”).

Dumping the plates in the sink, he pivots and opens the fridge.

“I was gonna put this all in one big bowl to make it more romantic but the one in the cupboard had a spider in it.” Bucky explains, brings two glass bowls of fruit salad and whipped cream over to the table.

Steve raises his eyebrows, “If I’d known you were afraid of spiders that whole helicarrier thing would have been a lot easier.”

Bucky sits back down and kicks him under the table.

“I’ll have you know the Winter Solider isn’t scared of anything,” he says in a tone that reveals just how seriously he’s taking himself, “but I can’t shake the idea that if I kill a spider, Natalia will _know_.”

They both laugh at that, though Steve wouldn’t put it past Natasha to put a few friendly bugs in their apartment. He can never predict her.

After the fruit salad there’s a cheese tray and coffee, just like there would be in any high class thirties restaurant. Usually cigars would be a common feature at the end too, but Steve had never smoked a day in his life and never intended to, seeing it as wilful destruction of the lungs he was given a second chance with. Bucky can sometimes be caught smoking roll ups but not tonight.

“You know, I think we’ll have to add you into the cooking rota after this.” Steve ruminates.

Bucky makes a mock pained noise. They’ve moved to the work surface now, Steve leaning against it and Bucky actually sitting on it. It was a testimony to how much Steve loves him that he doesn’t kick him off.

“See how many more nice gestures I make for you, if this’s how you’re gonna react!” Bucky warns him cheerfully.

Steve sticks his tongue out then takes a swig of his coffee, frowning.

“Did you put any sugar in this, Buck?” he asks.

Hopping off the counter, Bucky’s face pulls together in consideration. “No: thought I would be sweet enough for you, Rogers.”

Steve groans at the line and brushes past Bucky to get to the sugar jar on the side. It isn’t like Bucky to forget something like that. Once he gets his memories back he clings onto them as only an amnesiac can. Putting his mug down, he reaches over and removes the lid to the jar. He’s suddenly glad he put the mug down.

“Bucky?”

Inside the jar is a simple silver band. It’s nestled on top of a pure white cushion of sugar. Steve takes it out with reverent fingers, watches the candle light flicker across the ring.

When he turns back to Bucky he finds him on his knee. He’s licking his lips nervously but the glimmer in his eye is assured.

“I was walking along the docks the other day, thinking about what Marie had said to me on our last visit.” his voice is firm but his eyes shine with unshed tears, “And it came back to me. It should have been the first thing I remembered but somehow it was the last. I remembered that day you came at met me at the docks after my shift. You were so excited, flapping on about a job at the newsagents like you’d just won presidency. You said you were gonna help pay the bills with more than the pennies your art brought in and I’d have to respect you good and proper now.”

Steve is crying, the memory clear in his mind too.

“And I said I always did respect you. Ain’t no one I’ve ever respected more, my ma included (god rest her soul). And then you just _pounce_ forward like a goddamn cat and kiss me smack on the mouth for all to see. It was our first kiss.”

There’s no doubt in Bucky’s voice, no seeking confirmation as he sometimes has to when recovering a memory. He knows this.

“Took me too long to remember that, Stevie. Took me too long to remember any of it. By all rights you shoulda kicked me to the curb months ago, but then you never did run from a fight.” admiration streams from Bucky’s voice like the tears that have broken free from his eyes, “So now that I know, now we’re us again and I know how we began, I want to ask you something I’ve waited most of a damn century to ask.

“Steven Grant Rogers, will you marry me?”

A sob echoes around the room and Steve isn’t sure who it came from because he’s suddenly on his knees, hands either side of Bucky’s face, lips on his lips.

“That an affirmative, Captain?” Bucky grins, pulling back to look at Steve.

“Yes. God yes, Buck.”

He traces his fingers over Bucky’s jaw and commits the whole thing to memory, resolved to sketch it the moment he can bear to stop touching his fiancé. Bucky takes the ring from Steve’s hand and slides it home, the very picture of pleased.

“Oh. I love you!” Bucky blurts out hurriedly, as though he’d forgotten it right until that second.

“I love you too.” Steve replies, heart swelling.

 

-

 

At Sam and Natasha’s insistence they throw an engagement party (which Tony promptly calls an enGAYment party) however Bucky still isn’t good with large crowds or noise so they get their friends and have coffee in a Starbucks that Coulson booked for the afternoon as a present. Steve is pretty sure it’s not actually possible to book a coffee shop for a day but then he won’t put anything past Coulson.

Over lattes, espressos and frappuccinos they joke about who is best man and who is maid of honour - though everyone knows the answer is Sam and Natasha. Bucky’s great nephew on Marie’s side is already slated to be ring bearer (much to Tony’s disappointment) and all of the Howling Commando Clan are to be invited. There’s talk of the reception being at Trip’s home and at that Tony draws the line and says he’ll build a new floor if he has to, whatever it takes to get the reception of the century in his home.

“You’re not building a new floor.” Pepper doesn’t even look at Tony as she shoots him down, sipping on her coffee.

Clint laughs at the betrayed look on Tony’s face, earning him a spoonful of froth thrown in his direction. “Hey!”

Steve gets up to grab some napkins before it escalates, slipping past Bruce and ducking behind Thor when Clint and Kate launch a retaliatory strike. He finds Natasha over by the little table holding sugar, napkins and those odd wooden sticks used for spoons. She seems happy as she watches Pepper trying to contain them.

“This isn’t going to be a problem, is it?” Steve questions as he helps himself to a generous amount of napkins.

“That you’re marrying my ex or that you never called Sharon?” There’s no venom in Natasha’s voice and Steve appreciates for the hundredth time how she gets right to the point.

“Well now, I did call her. _I did!”_ Steve protests at she gives him a look, “Only, it was to ask her to be a bridesmaid.”

Natasha laughs at that, an honest, open laugh. Any doubts Steve has fall away. Natasha had been upfront about her history with Bucky months ago but she had also made it clear that some things, no matter how good, have to stay in the past.

“Once I realised she was related to Peggy-”

“-he was already aching for someone else.” Bucky had snuck up on them alarmingly easy.

“Shut up, Buck. I was gonna say it was too weird.” Steve says fondly, reaching out to elbow the other man.

Bucky retaliates by grabbing his arm and wrapping it around his waist, closing the distance between them with grace. He lands a kiss on Steve’s cheek and winks at Natasha.

“Think you’re up to the task of being our maid of honour then, Natalia? Because I wouldn’t want to be the poor sucker left organising these guys.” he gestures to the other avengers with a tilt of his head.

Back at the table Clint and Tony are arm-wrestling it out, the table groaning underneath them. Kate, Sam and Thor were cheering on Clint whilst Bruce and Pepper seemed to be on Tony’s side. That is to say they were sitting at his end of the table, sharing looks of resigned affection.

An errant thought pops into Steve’s head and he realises he can’t wait to introduce his new team to the family of his old one.

Clint wins the match with a victorious howl of triumph, punching the air like a kid as Tony tries to claim he cheated.

“I think I can work with this.” Natasha says sweetly.

Rounding on the trio, Clint grins at them with fire in his eyes, “Okay it’s decided, you’re having a Victoria sponge, none of this fruit cake shit Tony likes.”

Steve doesn’t even have time to gape, let alone wonder how he missed the prize up for grabs in that match.

“Oh no, tough guy.” Bucky cuts in, “Nat is in charge of all the details, including our marble cake. No-one is arm wrestling or mud wrestling or fighting for any sort of favours here, got it?”

Bucky may as well have confiscated Clint’s favourite arrow for all it does to him. Mumbling something, he flops back down in his seat.

“What about bribes?” Tony pipes up, “Romanova, how much will it take to get a red, white and blue themed wedding? And maybe little bald eagles to go on the top of the cake? I’m thinking why not go all out. Do you have Obama on speeddial? ”

Horrifically, Bucky cracks up at that. Steve should probably be glad Tony chose this battle to fight and has made no mention of bachelor parties and strip clubs. Even so, he shoots Natasha a look that says “Please don’t let them”. She gives him a coy smile.

“Eagles and cakes?” Thor paraphrases, “This sounds more like Asgardian marriage traditions than I have been led to believe by the good doctor Banner. Perhaps you also have wild boar and meat pie in your feast?”

As everyone steps up to explain earth wedding ceremonies to their intergalactic pal, Steve turns to sneak a look at Bucky. He’s unsurprised to find warm blue eyes looking right back at him. It still hasn’t fully set in yet that Bucky is his fiancé. Steve supposes if he looks at his ring long enough it will, but for now he’s content to occupy himself in brushing a strand of hair out of Bucky’s eyes.

“You know I’m not going to let you pick the flowers, right?” Bucky says seriously.

Confused, Steve tilts his head questioningly.

“I remember that garish bouquet you brought home the summer you were taking extra art classes. If you think I’m letting you near a florists after that you’ve got another thing coming, pal.”

Steve groans and tips back his head. “Goddamnit, Bucky that wasn’t even in this century! And I was _color blind._ ”

Laughing, Bucky surges up and plants a quick wet kiss on Steve’s neck, smiling wolfishly when Steve pushes him off.

 

**Surprise #12: Steve can dance the Lindy Hop**

June 25th is the anniversary of Steve’s enhancement. On all previous passings of this date he had ignored it, finding no reason to commemorate the occasion. This year, however, The National Museum of American History wants to pull out all the stops. Invites go out to everyone and everyone with enough money and status to make the gala a night the press cannot afford to miss.

“ _Please_ tell me they’re holding it in the Stars and Stripes Café!” Bucky says when he hears.

He’s disappointed to learn the event is in fact being held on the Museum's 5th floor roof terrace, though looking at the photos online he soon cheers up. The website boasts facilities for up to 350 dinner guest, though Steve is hoping there won’t be quite so many people. Luckily, he’s allowed to invite as many people as he wants so he concedes that there are some perks to gala held in his honour. He invites all of the avengers, some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and everyone from the Commando families old enough to drink. Since this is his night, he sees no reason not to be surrounded by his friends.

Sam flies in specially for the night. He moved back to DC after Steve and Bucky got engaged, claiming that the apartment was too small for him and he missed his other friends. He still has a room at their place though, made up for flying visits such as these. Bucky tries not to be too let down when Sam turns up without Albert. His love for the dog has Steve thinking it’s only a matter of time before Bucky brings home a stray.

Fortunately for now, Bucky is content with Steve’s company. That’s even more apparent when he drags Steve onto the dance floor with a wicked gleam in his eye. Steve knows he should be schmoozing and making nice with the people responsible for hosting the night but he can’t deny Bucky a dance.

They get to the middle of the dance floor and Bucky seems to have prearranged something with whoever is doing the music. What was an elegant waltz fades into the unmistakable opening chords of something a little more thirties. Steve laughs, realising Bucky expects him to Lindy Hop. They’d practised in secret before the war, always slowed down and with Bucky leading. During the war there had been a few private dancing lessons in Steve's new body, but in peculiar places like back streets, woods, wherever two men could dance in peace. Unfortunately this had meant no music. 

This time they try for the proper speed, in the proper place, with the proper music. They whirl around the floor like it’s made of lava, starting simple, then twisting to the rhythm. After a moment they find their feet and an unspoken agreement passes between them. Bucky flips over Steve’s bowed back with the efficiency of a man who spent most of his adolescence in dancehalls. He then twists back, grabs Steve and tosses him over his head with calculated grace. They join hands again. To anyone watching it would appear Steve had been dancing with Bucky his whole life, not watching from the side lines.

They finish after only a few moments, the dance taking a small toll even on them. Applause breaks out. Steve flushes and gives a small wave to their amassed audience, embarrassed to see the dance floor had cleared when they had taken centre stage.

“As you were, everyone.” Bucky grins roguishly, leading Steve away from the spotlight. Steve could kiss him for that.

Making their way to the bar, both men get themselves a drink that’ll do nothing to them and turn back to scan the crowd. Steve looks for friendly faces. Bucky looks for exits. For a few blissful moments no one bothers them.

It ends too soon, as it always does. A willowy, dark skinned woman in a red gown finds them lurking at the bar.

“Gentlemen!” she croons, arms outstretched, “I’m Nigella Lawal, one of the Curators of The Division of Armed Forced History. You’re here by my invitation tonight.”

Steve takes her hand, shaking it firmly, “Ms Lawal, it’s an honour to be here.”

She turns to Bucky next, not in the least apprehensive about the metal hand poking out of his suit jacket. “I’m thrilled you accepted, you especially Sergeant Barnes. This night is in the Captain’s honour but having you here is the icing on the cake.”

Bucky doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, shaking her offered hand in silence.

“If there’s anything either of you need tonight, I’ll be at your table. Alternatively the staff have been instructed to provide you with whatever you need. Oh and if the press are bothering you we can have them removed. They're only here as a token gesture.”

Steve thanks her and she takes her leave, already eyeing up her next celebrity guest across the room. Unseen by the room, Steve gives Bucky a light squeeze on his arm and nods at the throng of guests.

“Shall we?”

After the dancing there’s an exorbitant dinner on the terrace that could probably feed a family for a month. Steve tries not to feel guilty about it as he eats. Bucky does a good job of distracting him, pointing out the wall decorations inside.

“Aww come on, Stevie. It’s hilarious!” he cajoles.

“It’s a timeline of my life, Buck. It’s creepy.”

Trip sends him a sympathetic glance from down the table. He is one of very few of Steve’s guests to be seated on the main table and Steve can’t help but think that’s due to his grandfather rather than his status as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

“Hey, Adonis.” Tony calls, unsurprisingly seated next to Nigella, “Wrong fork.”

It takes every shred of patience Steve has to not send a snarky comment Tony’s way for that. He settles for thanking him reverently and telling him he never knew which fork to use, seeing as they’d been invented after his fall. Bucky sniggers into his champagne. Pepper does too, surprisingly.

Once dessert has been polished off Steve is itching to find everyone. He’s not exactly sure what the protocol for leaving the dinner table is though, so he waits in silence, craning his neck for a familiar face. Aside from Tony, Pepper, Trip and of course Bucky, Steve’s only seen Sam so far tonight. He knows there’s over twenty Commando Children here but they’re lost in a crowd of press, donors and otherwise important people the Museum likes to bring out to showcase its connections.

A noise rings out across the roof terrace, carrying far enough to attract everyone’s attention. It’s Nigella, tapping her wine glass and on her feet.

“Distinguished guests, you are here tonight to join our museum in celebrating the seventy-second anniversary of the birth of Captain America-”

Bucky leans into Steve’s personal space, his cologne sharp, “She does know it’s not your birthday, right?”

Steve hushes him with a smile and tries to pay attention.

“-for his service we are most grateful. In countless ways and over countless years the Captain has saved our lives with strength, precision and intelligence. We owe him a debt far beyond what we can ever hope to repay.”

Steve starts to drift after that. He’s always been too modest for his own good and hearing someone tell hundreds of people why Steve Rogers is a hero is a bit much for him. He wants to say that he didn’t do it for the favours or the rewards. He wants everyone to know that he was just doing the right thing and serving his country. He keeps quiet though, listening as Nigella recounts his transformation and the deeds he accomplished with his new body.

On his right, Bucky doesn’t seem to be agreeing with the praise being sung for him. It’s evident in the way Bucky frowns just a little every time Nigella refers to Steve by title rather than name.

Finally, she draws to a close and invites Bucky to take the stage.

Bucky seems to have been prepared for this moment, pulling note cards from his pocket with a devilish wink at Steve. He gives a speech that leaves everyone in the room crying softly by the end of it. It starts with the assertion that Steve was always the embodiment of all that America stands for, “Hell, he’s literally best friends with Uncle Sam.” (Sam waves from his table). He goes on to build up a picture of the man behind the title, culminating with a joke, thanking Nigella and everyone else who put together the evening and saying it’s because of formal events like these that Steve can convince him to shave regularly and look like a normal human being.

There’s a tittering of laughter as Bucky sits back down. He squeezes Steve’s knee under the table, boyish charm radiating from him. Dressed like this, hair slicked back and arm hidden, he almost looks exactly like he did in the days before the war. Granted, he never had a suit so fine nor hair this long, but Steve can see the man he fell in love with in the way Bucky holds himself and looks at him.

A few more people get up to make speeches after Bucky. Mostly they’re people Steve has no recollection of meeting, talking about his heroics and the sacrifices he made. A few talk about his bravery in agreeing to the project in the first place. Only two mention Erskine.

Steve is the last person to speak. Knowing he’d be called upon, he has a speech prepared in his pocket. But then Nigella gives his introduction to the room and he gets to his feet, suddenly making the decision to deviate.

Standing there at the main table, an entire unit’s worth of people staring back, he finds his friends. Sees Natasha, Clint, Kate, Sam, Bruce, Thor, Jane and Darcy on a table by themselves, easily spotted by Natasha’s hair and Thor’s build. Three tables away he spots Coulson and his team, the recovered Jemma Simmons beaming at him. And finally, right at the back and spread across four tables are the people who (aside from Bucky) probably have the best idea of what the war was really like. He nods at the families of his friends.

“I feel like I should be asking you all to buy war bonds,” Steve begins, flashing the terrace a poster boy smile, “but that’s not why I’m here tonight. Tonight is about Dr Erskine and the ingenuity he performed on a skinny boy in New York some years ago today. You’ve all heard a lot about me tonight so I hope you’ll forgive me if I talk about someone else. You see, it was Erskine who saw the potential in me when I was trying – and failing – to enlist. I wouldn’t be here today without his intelligence, diligence and his determination to do the right thing.

“Erskine was German. He came to America knowing that he would find prejudice here even trying to help us but he came anyway. In the end it cost him his life. I’d like to take a moment of silence as we remember that this is also the anniversary of his death.”

Silence had fallen the moment Steve had started talking and it persists now, stretching out in the night air. Whether it’s for respect of Erskine or respect of Steve, he can’t tell.

“Thank you. It wasn’t just Erskine that helped me be here today. She may be gone now, but my mother was an amazing woman who never got to see what her son became. I learnt strength from watching her; the nurse that knew her child had little hope of survival in the world yet loved him fiercely anyway. It was my mother who told me "A strong heart will take you further than any physical strength. A strong heart means you'll never quit.". I try to live up to this ideal every day.

“There’s also the people I met after my transformation. I know tonight is about the birth of Captain America but I wouldn’t be a Captain without my Howling Commandos: Dugan; Morita; Falsworth; Jones and Dernier. They kept me alive during the war, more than I should care to admit.”

From the back tables a cheer rings out and no one needs to guess where it originates. Steve chuckles and bows his head, a smile pulling at his lips.

He goes on to thank Colonel Phillips, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark and his scientists. He thanks the team that found him in suspended animation in the Arctic. He thanks the avengers (including Sam and the S.H.I.E.L.D. members both here today and the ones that gave their lives fighting HYDRA on his orders).

Finally, he rounds off.

“There’s one last person, one person I owe more to than I can- Well, he knows. For all that he’s done, all he’s put up with, I’d like to thank my fiancé, Sergeant James Barnes.”

The press at their small, obligatory table go wild. This is the first time they’ve heard the news. They get to their feet, intentions unclear. A quick gesture from Nigella has security forming a human barrier between them and the press. It's a temporary measure, he'll have to talk to them eventually. For now, however, Steve feels lightheaded: buoyant. He feels one hundred years younger.

 

**Surprise #13: Bucky is better with technology than Steve**

“Hey man, happy birthday!” Sam yells down the phone.

Steve winces and holds the phone a bit further away from his ear. It sounds like Sam’s out in public too, somewhere busy by the sounds of it. Steve’s walking home after a long day babysitting. Not exactly how he intended to spend the day, but it beats last year.

“Thanks, Sam. Don’t suppose there’s any chance you’re hiding in my apartment waiting to jump out when I got the key in the door?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Steve crosses a side street and hurries on.

“Sorry Cap, I meant it when I said I wasn’t coming down until the weekend. Why aren’t you at home though? What’s he got planned for you?” Sam’s voice is light and playful.

“ _He’s_ got nothing planned. Not that he’s told me. I’ve been in the park with Falsworth’s great grandson, John. Jacqueline needed a babysitter and decided to call me.”

There’s a bark of laughter from down the phone. “Because you’re so good with babies?”

“Because I’m so good with babies.” Steve deadpans.

It’s no secret that Steve is uncomfortable even around Sam’s adorable nephews. As he’s said before in his defence, Captain America can’t be good at everything.

“Please don’t tell me you really believe it was a coincidence she called you and not anyone else in that small army of people you found- oh! Albert, get back here man. She doesn’t want to play!” Sam trails off into apologies to what Steve assumes is another dog owner.

It takes a moment before Sam gets back on the line and in that time Steve has reached his block. He’s nearly at his apartment now.

“Sorry, where were we?”

“It’s okay Sam, I’ve got to go now. Call you later.”

“Later.”

Steve hangs up. He walks the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, breaking it only to acknowledge his neighbours once he gets to his building.

Upstairs, he finds the apartment empty save for a note that tells him to go to the roof. Steve isn’t a dumb man, he knows the babysitting task was part of Bucky’s scheme to get him out the house and Steve had gone along with it. This was the first time they were to celebrate his birthday without scrimping for weeks to save for a cake. There was a sense that it had to be perfect, though neither man had actually given voice to the thought.

Obeying the note, Steve goes back into the hallway and climbs the last few flights of stairs until he’s walking straight out onto the roof garden. The sight takes his breath away. It’s decked out in fairy lights, even the little pot plants. A blanket is splayed out over the tarmac to Steve’s left and as he rounds the corner he sees a projector set up and shining onto the outer wall of the stairs. Bucky has a meal laid out for them, food they’d fantasied about eating as kids but never been able to afford. It’s perfect.

“Happy birthday, Stevie.” Bucky says fondly.

He’s perching on the half wall surrounding the roof, dressed in jeans and faded grey t-shirt. The sunset bounces off the metal of his arm and literally leaves Steve dazzled by him.

“You did all this?” Steve says, drawing closer.

Bucky shrugs, “I wouldn’t let anyone else help. Let’s eat before the fireworks start, I don’t pay for all this to go cold.”

For a split second Steve thinks Bucky has arranged fireworks for him, completely forgetting that his birthday falls on Independence Day. Bucky seems to be on the same wavelength because he suddenly says, “Hey, remember how you used to believe the fireworks were for your birthday?”

Blushing, Steve finds a spot on the blanket not bedecked with food. “Only ‘cause you used to tell me that, Buck. I think it’s pretty mean to go lying to a guy’s face on his birthday.”

Bucky joins him on the blanket and pops a cocktail sausage in his mouth, “Wasn’t lying, it was just wishful thinking. Now everyone knows what a gem you are so it’s okay.”

“Aren’t we sentimental tonight?” Steve shoots back with a suspicious look."You aren't planning on proposing again, are you? 

Bucky only raises his hands in defence and reaches for the bottle of wine.

They eat and they talk and they reminisce about past birthdays (including the awful ones spent during war). It’s after a tale about the year in Poland that Bucky missed his own birthday by a week that Bucky suddenly stops.

“I want to give you your present now.” he says, eyes shining.

“Yeah you should,” Steve agrees seriously, “because all of this has been torture so far.”

His sarcasm is ignored as Bucky scrambles to his feet and messes around with the projector. Within seconds a clip starts playing and a few more seconds later the sound kicks in.

“I thought it was my turn to reach out.” Bucky explains, eyes glued to the images.

Steve can’t formulate a reply.

Projected onto the wall in front of him is recording of Steve’s USO tour. Only it can’t be, because it was never recorded and certainly wouldn’t have been in such high quality.

“Bucky?” Steve falters.

Star Spangled Man with a Plan starts playing and Steve realises that the girls dancing in uniform aren’t the women he toured with. He may not have known them all by name but he saw them on a daily basis for weeks on end.

“I found the children of the showgirls you toured with.” Bucky says, “Turns out some of them could fit into their mothers’ old get up.”

Steve watches in fascination as the girls go through the routine flawlessly. With a start he realises the man he had first thought was himself is actually Bucky. Charming, funny Bucky, life of the dancehalls of New York stumbles through the act like he owns two left feet. He does manage to do all the strongman stuff with his metal arm though.

Steve has never seen the show from this perspective. It feels like an out of body experience.

When they finish, the video cuts to a shot of older women sitting in a bright room somewhere. Steve recognises these women.

“Happy birthday, Captain!” the original showgirls yell.

He can’t help it, he chokes up a little.

“What did ya think, Steve?”

Steve turns to his fiancé with unspeakable emotions displayed clearly on his face. He gets to his feet and sweeps Bucky into a kiss.

“Guess I must have done something right.” Bucky quips as Steve releases him.

“Yeah, Buck. Best birthday ever.”

Bucky tuts at that, walking backwards until the backs of his legs hit one of the sun loungers that have been there longer than they’re been living in the building. He settles in on one and motions for Steve to join him. He does and they end up sitting back-to-stomach on a lounger, Bucky’s metal and flesh arms wrapped securely around Steve’s waist.

“We’re still waiting for the grand finale.” Bucky whispers into Steve’s ear, breath tickling at his neck.

Steve shivers and gets comfortable.

“You think we’ll be able to hear them from here?” he finds himself asking.

“Don’t reckon we will. If it’s too loud we’ll go back inside and watch from the windows like we did when we were kids. That okay?”

Steve knows he’s asking for both of their benefits, another one of the little things they had to live with as soldiers returned from war. He tells Bucky that’s fine and starts to talk about his day in the park with John. Somewhere into the conversation Bucky says they’ve been invited to several soccer matches, a dance recital and an art gallery opening as part of a family thing. Steve’s heart lurches when Bucky refers to the Commando Children as family.

“How’d we get so lucky, Bucky?” Steve wonders, smiling at his accidental rhyme.

Huffing out a laugh, Bucky tightens his grip on Steve for a moment. “We died.”

It’s then that the night sky erupts into red, white and blue. The explosions are audible but quiet enough to be bearable. For now at least, they won’t move.

 

**Surprise #14: Bucky and Steve get a family**

It’s the media that tells Bucky his fiancé is cheating on him. Late July must be a quiet time of year for news because everyone and their neighbour is talking about the pretty young woman who had been spotted having dinner with Captain America.

Bucky is in the local supermarket when he hears about it. An older woman with crow’s feet gives him her condolences and says he can do better. Bemused, Bucky thanks her and sets down the bag of rice he was holding. The cashier gives him a sympathetic look when he comes to pay, ringing up his groceries without the usual fuss he’s come to expect ever since they went public with the engagement.

It isn’t until he’s passing a newsstand on his walk home that he sees the headlines for himself.

“Can you believe it?” Steve says later, somewhere between outraged and amused, “They actually think I’d cheat on you! I’ve got to hold a press conference to explain myself.”

Bucky laughs at that, running his hands through his hair and marvelling at how society has changed.

“Good to know even this country won’t let you get away with shit.” he chimes, getting a cushion thrown at him for his trouble.

The press conference takes place later that afternoon and the way Maria Hill organises it is pretty clear she wants to achieve more than clearing Steve’s good name. Sure enough, when she bursts into the room in Avenger’s Tower that they’d dubbed the dressing room, she’s got something in mind.

“The public still aren’t happy with us after that last fight in Central Park, so we need to do some serious damage control here, Captain. Make them love us again, okay?” It’s not quite an order seeing as Hill no longer has any authority outside of Stark employees but Steve seems to treat it like one anyway.

She ushers him out after that, leaving Bucky to wait in the adjoining green room and watch a live feed of the press conference happening only a few walls away. Tony really had thought of everything when he built this tower.

Steve steps into frame and Bucky is pleased to see the expression he’s wearing to face the media is the same one he wears before battle. As he settles in behind a table Bucky’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He gets it out and reads a text from Sharon Carter.

_“Are you watching this?”_

Snorting, Bucky shoots back, “no I thought I’d go swimming whilst my fiancé’s being crucified on live TV.”

On screen, Steve clears his throat and addresses the crowd. There’s a small wave of laughter when he introduces himself and Bucky wonders if Steve knows just what a household name he is now.

“I’ve been told to skip straight to answering questions, so if you’re ready…”

Damn, Steve looks uncomfortable up there. Bucky had never seen him during his stage tours but he can scarcely believe the man in front of him was an actor once. He’s not flinching at the camera flashes but he may as well be.

“Yes, you in the blue.”

“Does this mean you aren’t gay?” someone off screen asks.

Steve frowns slightly and Bucky thinks he’s probably annoyed that the immediate assumption of the whole scandal is a guiltly verdict.

“As you know, I recently made the announcement that Sergeant James Barnes and I are to be married. Neither of us – nor our PR team – could have anticipated the intensity of the response. Since then we’ve refrained from commenting, wishing to keep the event private. I see now that by doing so I’ve cheated many people of a publicly out role model.” Bucky can see Steve cringe just a little at calling himself a role model, “I am not gay. I am a bisexual man with a male fiancé and I hope America can accept that.”

The cameras go crazy, every one of them trying to capture the moment Captain America really came out.

“Captain Rogers, are you and Mr Barnes not already married then?” one of the journalists cries.

Steve blinks in confusion and Bucky’s phone buzzes again.

 _“WTF? Why don’t they know when the wedding is?”_ Sharon wants to know. That woman can type fast.

Bucky sends back a reply saying that it was part of security measures in a bid to make the day a press free event. Back on screen, Steve patiently repeats that “ _Sergeant_ Barnes” and he are still engaged and therefore not yet married. He quickly deflects the follow up demand for a date by saying people might want to turn it into a public holiday. He’s joking, of course, but Bucky can just hear their foes calling Captain America a narcissist.

Luckily, the next reporter actually wants to hear about the original story of the day.

“It’s not like that,” Steve protests as calmly as he can manage, “the woman in the photos is Daisy Dugan, granddaughter of Timothy Dugan, late of the Howling Commandos. Every other Sunday I like to take another descendant of the Howling Commandos to lunch and learn about them and their family.”

“Does Barnes know?” a third journalist asks off screen.

Bucky suddenly wonders if the journalists are ignoring his title on purpose, still raw from the revolation that Captain America's old war buddy is the Winter Solider. He pushes the thought aside.

Steve treats that person to a well deserved incredulous look, “Of course. I don’t have any secrets from Bucky. In fact the week after last he was babysitting Falsworth’s great-grandson while I took his mother out.”

There’s a mixed murmur of amusement and concern as the crowd imagines Bucky looking after a toddler.

“Why don’t you go together?” someone calls.

Steve hesitates for a second, thinking about this. “I suppose we can’t do everything together. This is something I have to do for myself. I don’t have much to offer these kids in return for the stories of their parents but they let me buy them lunch and I’m grateful for it.”

Buzzing once again, Bucky picks up his phone and reads the text from Sharon.

_“Don’t let him call us kids anymore, it’s getting weird.”_

Silently, Bucky agrees. Steve has a funny way of dealing with being simultaneously mid-twenties and mid-nineties.

“I never got to say goodbye to the men who saved my life on countless occasions and there’s really nothing I can do to fix that,” Steve carries on, “but hearing about the lives they led and the impact they had after I was gone spurs me on. During the war they became my family. After the war, after the ice, they gave me one again. Bucky and I know we will never be alone, not as long as we have people to fight for.”

It’s Bucky that sends the text this time, asking Sharon how he fell for such a sappy man. She texts back with “At least the family approves of your sappy husband-to-be!” and a smiley face.

Steve is saying something else on TV now and Bucky glances up in time to hear him sum up.

“…not cheating on Bucky but I am allowed to spend time with people other than my partner. Next week I’m looking forward to pizza with Gabriel Jones’ grandson and he’s going to tell me about his grandfather’s musical career post-war.”

Hill will be happy; no one will be cursing the Avengers for the foreseeable future now that Steve is back in their good books. And to think all it took was a little batting of his eyelashes and his loving uncle routine.

“Unfortunately, I think we’re out of time,” he smirks at the journalists and Bucky _knows_ that look.

He repeats that they’re out of time but he earnestly hopes that the cameras will find time to be present on August 13th when he and Bucky get married.The journalists go crazy, clamouring for more details but Steve just gets up and goes back to his waiting fiancé.

They’re going to catch hell for that information drop later but right now Bucky doesn’t care. Steve comes into the room and Bucky knows what it must feel like for Steve to have a family worth braving the hounds of the media for. He knows what it must feel like to have a family worth showing off to the world. He _knows_ because that’s what he feels every time he looks at Steve .

**Author's Note:**

> I invite you all to check out the Lindy Hop here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ohzSBLMohAY
> 
> and Albert is a creation by this person: http://felixandria.tumblr.com/post/85029922886/sam-wilson-has-an-old-rescue-golden-retriever
> 
> and my knowledge of the Smithsonian came from here: http://americanhistory.si.edu/about/special-events
> 
> Thank you for reading! Any mistakes are due to the rush to get this done in time. Please feel free to point out anything glaringly wrong in the comments.


End file.
